


Red Like Blood In Veins of Blue

by screamer



Series: RLBIVOB 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Dark Jensen Ackles, Excessive smoking, M/M, Manipulation, Mob Boss Jensen, Mpreg, Obsession, Organized Crime, Power Dynamics, Unrequited, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 100,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1234594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamer/pseuds/screamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a rising crime lord and Jared's the college kid who catches his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Jade Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/74417.html?thread=26140593#t26140593) kink meme prompt, posted here for easier reading. Tags to be added as needed. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is not a portrayal of any person(s), living or dead. It's pure fiction. The author does not condone the actions of any characters, and receives no remuneration for this work. This is not how organized crime, the mafia, or human biology works.

The problem was, Jared’s father was not a criminal; and yet, despite his lack of qualifications, he embarked upon a life of crime. 

If he had been at all experienced, he might not have been caught red-handed in the act of poorly executed white collar embezzlement, and he might not have ended up in prison. His family might not have lost their home, and Jared might not have (definitely wouldn’t have) taken the job offer at The Jade Room.

And if he hadn’t been working at a mixed night club, he certainly wouldn’t have met Jensen Ackles, prince of the crime world, rising star of the business world, beautiful, cruel and mercurial, and the father of Jared’s child. 

But then, maybe there are some thing Jared doesn’t want to change. 

His job at The Jade Room came with the title of waiter, but there was the unspoken understanding that along with serving drinks, Jared would be objectified, harassed, groped and generally treated like a twenty-dollar whore, minus any actual fucking. So far, at least. 

Before Jared dropped out of college and took a full-time job at a night club, the harshest work environment he had ever had to endure was shelving Japanese teas and rows of ceramic maneki-neko’s for two years in high school, under the watchful eye of crotchety old Mr. Fukushima. If he was being honest with himself, as he sometimes was at four a.m., washing off the scent of alcohol and perfume in his tiny apartment, working at The Jade Room terrified him. The very air reeked of money and abandon. The other waiters watched him with knowing eyes, as if it was just a matter of time before one of the customers stepped it up from ass-pinching to ass fucking, Jared’s 6'3"-and-growing frame be damned. 

“How do you work here?” Jared asked Jimmy on his third night. Jimmy gave him an incredulous look. 

“I mean, don’t you feel . . . uncomfortable?” Jared struggled to find words to describe hot shame that almost felt like indignation and tasted a little like fear. 

Jimmy raised one eyebrow and ran his gaze slowly up Jared’s body, from the toes of his faux combat boots, over the clinging leather leggings, paired only with fashion suspenders and fingerless leather gloves. 

“You better get used to it, kid, or get a new job.” 

“We’re not whores,” Jared said. It’s what he’d been himself that since the moment he walked in the door. 

Jimmy slammed his locker and glared at Jared. “Dipshit, I know that. You know why you can’t hack the job? Because _you_ don’t know that. You keep acting like a virgin in a prison yard, they’re gonna keep treating you like one.”

Jared watched Jimmy leave, his skin feeling too warm and his stomach rolling. “I’m not a virgin,” he said to the empty locker room. He was never going to get used to the job. 

Looking back now, Jared isn’t sure if he was saved that night Jensen Ackles walked into the club, or if that was the moment he was damned. 

Maybe a little of both. 

It was a Wednesday night, which for no reason Jared could discern was always the club’s busiest night outside of the weekend. The evening’s uniform was a vest that ended a good inch above his navel, with open sides and back like a girl’s peek-a-boo dress, and shiny gold pants, and cut so skinny they looked painted on. All the girls (wearing the shortest, tightest sheath dresses Jared had ever seen) insisted his legs were _simply made for those pants._

Jared thought the outfit made him look like a stripper, but his coping technique these days was not to think. He needed this job if he had even a hope of returning to college and helping his family back on their feet. So if he had to parade around in glorified lingerie for the pleasure of the rich and intoxicated, that’s what he would do. 

Jared kept the faces of his mom and sisters at that forefront of his mind as he accepted another tray of drinks from Terri. Her metallic gold dress was so tight she practically wiggled when she walked. As she passed off the tray, she reached out, digging her red nails into Jared’s side. “Smiles are dollars, Jare-bear. Let’s see those cute dimples.”

Jared gave his co-worker a frozen grin. Terri laughed and winked one bronzed eyelid. “Fake it ‘til you make, baby.”

Jared kept his smile in place as he wove his way back to his table. Just three more hours and he could go home. The floorshow was keeping the crowd distracted, six lithe girls in purple latex, and three men with perfect dancers’ bodies and very little to hide them. The music was just loud enough to encourage drinking and dancing rather than conversation. 

The prickling awareness of being watched made Jared look up to the balcony that curved around one end of the club and gave access to the roof, closed now due to cold temperatures. Other than the main bar, most of the light was centered on the stage, revolving in hectic patterns. The balcony had dim lights set low in the wall, leaving most of the occupants in deep shadow, but a pulsing strobe light lit up the man leaning one hip against the balcony railing. Light swept over broad shoulders under grey, tailored suit jacket, short hair, defined jaw. Dark-lashed eyes were fixed on Jared in a hooded gaze that settled like a hot hand on Jared’s skin.

In the three months he had worked at The Jade Room, Jared had seen more physical perfection, natural and artificial, than in his entire twenty-one previous. Models, aspiring actors and sports stars paraded through the doors each night, young, sleek and perfectly polished. The entertainers and staff at the club, Jared’s fellow waiters, were are all young and beautiful. But _holy fucking hell_ , this guy was in a class all his own. Jared considered himself bisexual, had since highschool. He met as many girls he was attracted to as guys, but if he’d met someone who looked like this back when he was exploring it as a sophomore, he would have been 110% gay in three seconds flat, sparkly, pink unicorns included.

Mr. Perfect lifted the cigarette to his lips, never taking his eyes from Jared’s. His inhale hollowed out his cheeks and the cigarette glowed orange before he pulled away. Eye locked with Jared’s, he grinned, showing straight, white teeth as twin lines of smoke curled from his nostrils.

It was like something was being communicated, and Jared was unnerved even as he was lit up with a pulse of white-hot arousal. He suddenly realized he was standing dead still, bathed in shifting lights, breathing too quickly, a tray of shots and mixed drink neglected in his hands.

Great. Now he looked like a total moron. 

The show was ending and Jared delivered his drinks with his best smile. When he looked back at the balcony, the spot by the railing was empty.

“Jared!” 

Jared fumbled his tray, dodged a trio of girls who were laughing and stumbling their way to the dance floor. He turned and found himself eye-level with Ashley, six feet of African princess, further enhanced by four inch gold heels. 

She leaned in to be heard over the music. “Deeter wants you.”

Not good. 

Jared nodded. “Uh, yeah, okay.” 

Ashley rolled her eyes and glided away, her tray of drinks balanced on one hand.

Jared found Deeter in his office, phone in hand, busily typing. 

“Jared,” the staff manager said, not even glancing up. “Mr. Ackles asked to see you. He’s in the back lounge.” 

When Jared didn’t move, Deeter looked up from his typing, eyebrows raised at Jared’s inaction. 

Jared tried not to look panicked. “Mr. Ackles wants to see me?” 

One of the first things Jared had learned from his co-worker’s gossip was that the owner of The Jade Room was not above sleeping with his employees. It was something of an open secret that Mr. Ackles had more than one fuck toy among The Jade Room staff. 

Jared wasn’t a prude, but such a casual approach to sex was not something he was used to. He’d grown up in neighborhoods of wide, green lawns and beautifully maintained houses, where sneaking in through his girlfriend’s bedroom window to cuddle and make out on her lavender sheets was as daring as he got. When he’d first started working at The Jade Room, his suburban-raised sensibilities had been shocked by how common it was for customers to proposition the staff, and even more so, for them to accept.

The Jade Room did not officially offer sex to its customers, but most of the people working there were picking up overtime to fuel dreams of something better; money was money, and most of The Jade Room’s patrons could afford to pay well for what they wanted.

The knowledge was insidious. Every time Jared talked to his mom on the phone and heard the exhaustion and stress in her voice he almost felt guilty for not doing everything he possibly could – and then immediately angry that he had been put in a situation where he was considering selling his body so his family could survive. Every time he turned down an offer, he envisioned what exactly he would do with the money if he had it. Sell his ass a few times a week and maybe he could help his mom and sisters back into a home, eat regular meals, return to college. 

Jared knew he was already on the slippery slide down.

But getting mixed up with the club owner, his actual employer, was not something Jared wanted to do. 

Deeter looked at Jared, annoyance settling into the heavy lines of his face. “Yes, Jared. Jensen Ackles, who is your boss. So move it.” 

Deeter turned back to his phone, and Jared left the office, unease fluttering in his gut as he headed for the back lounge, the room referred to by Jared’s fellow waiters as the pole room. Jared was pretty sure they weren’t talking about actual dancer’s poles.

The hallway was dim, the music from the floor show a deep throbbing beat in the walls. Jared paused just outside the door. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried he was going to be fired or fucked. Maybe fired unless he agreed to be fucked. Would Mr. Ackles do something like that? Jared felt a little sick. 

The back lounge was VIP territory, and he’d never had reason to be inside; stepping over the threshold felt like walking into an animal’s lair. The door closed and all outside noise immediately cut off, the room completely soundproof. Amber-tinted light shone on dark wood paneling and the smell of Cuban cigars and Clive Christian cologne settled over Jared like a mist. Breathy, vocal trance played from hidden speakers. 

The most obvious thing in the room were the two dancers in slow gyration around poles set in an oblong platform raised to a perfect height for observation from the deep leather chairs set around the stage. But it wasn’t the gleaming, half naked bodies that had Jared’s attention. 

The two men watching the dancers didn’t even look up at Jared’s entrance, but the three men standing at the bar all turned their heads towards Jared when the lounge door clicked closed. 

Leaning one elbow on the bar, glass of ice and gold liquid cradled in relaxed fingers, was Mr. Perfect from the balcony.

Jared glanced between the three faces, almost hoping that Mr. Ackles was one of two guys getting their rocks off watching the pole dancers. 

“Mr. Deeter said –”

“Six three?” Mr. Perfect’s eyes skated up and down Jared’s body.

Jared blinked. The moment stretched long as his brain scrambled to catch up. The guy on Mr. Perfect’s left laughed, and Jared felt his skin heat, but it got his brain moving again. “Uh, two and three fourths.”

The man on the left smiled. “How tall does that make you on your knees?”

“You might need a step ladder for this one, Jensen,” the other guy said, and Mr. Perfect laughed. 

“You can both fuck off now,” he said, still watching Jared like he was live porn. The two other guys left, taking their drinks with them.

Jared felt he should say something, make himself more than an object in the conversation. Maybe put in a “fuck off” of his own. 

“How much?” 

Jared tried to look unconcerned by being left alone with this guy. “I’m sorry, what?”

Mr. Ackles leaned both elbows on the bar, his body a long, relaxed line. “It’s not a difficult question. How much do you charge for sucking cock?”

Oh, fuck you, Jared thought. Thirty minutes ago he would have given a lot more than a blow job, and done it for free. So much for those brief, misguided sexual fantasies. Why did someone this hot have to be Jared’s sleazy boss?

Jared looked Mr. Ackles in the eye. “I don’t do that, that’s not my job.”

Mr. Ackles smirked, top lip curling. “I guess I’m not making the right offer, then.”

And Jared realized, right then, his body a weird mix of irritation and nervous arousal, it was never really about the sex, it was about the expectations of the people who looked Jared over like a packaged item with a price tag. Terri had told him he was thinking about it wrong. “So they think they’re using us. We’re using them, too. It’s business, baby.”

When Jared saw Mr. Ackles on the balcony, he’d imagined a lot of things, but none of them had included money. 

If it was business, than that’s all it would ever be. 

Jared bit the side of mouth, worked to keep his face expressionless, kicked at the tiny voice that murmured, you’re gonna get fired. “You couldn’t offer me enough money, Mr. Ackles. Can I get back to work now?” 

Mr. Ackles chuckled, low and throaty. “How long ‘till the old man gets his parole?”

Jared felt a sick little shock. He hadn’t told anyone, not even his college friends, about his family problems. “What are you talking about?” Jared tried.

Mr. Ackles shrugged, looked across the room towards the pole dancers. “Prison life is hard. You just look at someone wrong, you could find yourself dancing on the blacktop.”

Jared ran the sentence back in his head, frowned. “What?” 

Mr. Ackles took a cigarette case out of his pocket, snapped it open. “Stabbed, Jared. Your dad’s not a criminal, he’s just a desk monkey who was stupid and got caught. What’s he gonna do when someone comes after him with a shiv?”

Jared mind scrambled, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. Mr. Ackles lit his cigarette, light catching on the engraving in the side of the lighter. The room was cool, but Jared was breaking a sweat. 

“Are you threatening my dad?”

Mr. Ackles grinned around the cigarette. “I’m not the one your dad needs to worry about.”

When he got the news at college that his dad had been arrested, Jared refused to see or speak to the man. Hating his dad for getting them into this mess made it easier at first, but Jared had never been able to stay angry about anything for long. His mom gave him updates each time she called, and though Jared didn’t ask for them, didn’t respond, he listened.

She’d never said anything about his dad being in danger. He wasn’t a gang member, he didn’t have any enemies. 

“Stop fucking with me!” Jared said. “Why would my dad be in danger?”

“Who do you think owns the company your dad worked for? Nobody likes a thief.”

“He worked for a software developer . . . that was a criminal enterprise?”

Mr. Ackles laughed, smoke curling from his nose and mouth. “A criminal enterprise. You have a way with words.” He looked at Jared. “How bad do you want to keep daddy safe?”

Jared pictured himself turning around, walking out the door, letting the noise and lights and movement of the club wrap him up. Till it was time to go home. Then the rest of the week. His mom’s Sunday phone call. And maybe she would be crying about more than debt and hunger and fear.

“This is harassment,” Jared said. It was worth a shot.

Mr. Acklles smiled. “Feel free to report it to your supervisor.”

“I’ll report it to the fucking police,” Jared said.

“No, you wont.”

No, he wouldn’t. Because he needed this job, and his dad wasn’t getting a parole for three years, at least.

“How are you going to protect my dad?”

“I have people serving time there. They’ll keep him safe.” Green eyes flicked over Jared’s body. “Two weeks for one blow job.”

Something dropped out of Jared’s stomach. Two weeks was nothing. He’d known where this was going, but for some reason he’d been thinking this was a one time and forever deal. Which was fucking stupid. 

Jared lifted his chin, used his height. This was just business. “One month.”

Ackles grinned, skin at the edge of his eyes crinkling. “Baby has claws.”

“I know the guys here charge –”

“Three weeks, and I fuck your face.”

Oh, god.

Mr. Ackles settled his lower back against the bar. “Waiting for something?”

_For this to not be real._

“I’ve never –”

“You’ll learn.”

Jared wanted to ask they go somewhere private to do this, but the end result would be the same – he was sucking off his boss in return for a favor. He was down the slope and rolling around in the shit at the bottom. 

Whore. 

Jared closed the distance between them, stopped directly in front of Mr. Ackles. Leaning on the bar, Ackles was a good three inches shorter than Jared, but Jared felt like kid who had just wet his pants in a crowded party. He stood there, cigarette smoke sharp in his throat, knees locked up like rusty hinges.

“On your knees, Jared,” Mr Ackles said softly, and Jared found he could move, sink to the floor, till his ass touched his feet. 

Okay, he’d just follow whatever Mr. Ackles said. Think of his family and get through this. 

Wait, no. Fuck no! Not thinking of his family at all. 

But now that he had, he couldn’t stop. His mom would be mortified if she knew he was bartering sex like this. His little sisters . . .

“This whole innocence thing would be a lot cuter if your mouth was on my dick.”

Jared kept his head down, ran slick palms down his metallic pants. Mr. Ackles’ thighs bracketed his head, the curve of muscle outlined through fitted trousers. If Jared looked up, Mr. Ackles’ crotch would be right in front of his face.

_Man up, Padalecki. It’s not like you’ve never touched a dick before. God, I need to be drunk for this._

Jared closed his eyes, reached without looking, gingerly laid his palms flat against Mr. Ackles thighs. The muscle under the suit pants was hard as fucking rock.

And thinking of him as “Mr.” now was seriously weird. Jared was going to have this guys dick in his mouth . . . _okay, don’t think about that. But, Jensen. Yeah. Pretend he’s just some douche bag, fuck-buddy from college._

_Yes. Jensen was a douchebag fuck-buddy Jared met when they were both waiting in line at Arby’s. Someone mentioned college, and they found out they were both attending Brooklyn . . ._

Jared slid his hands up, feeling his way to Jensen’s crotch, the curve of his half-hard cock hot through th fabric of his pants. 

_. . . and they spent the next two hours arguing over Byron and Vonnegut. Because Jensen is a douche bag, but he’s a smart one. But he still thinks any sport but football is lame, so obviously he doesn’t have great taste in everything . . ._

Jared fumbled open the belt buckle. Button, zipper, what felt like silk boxers underneath. _Yeah, because Jensen is kind of pretentious. And rich. Trust fund baby._

Jared closed his eyes, leaned in, heart hammering against his ribs. He bit his tongue hard, nuzzled into Jensen’s open fly, rubbed his lips against silk pulled tight over hot skin. 

Above him Jensen gave a breathy laugh. “There you go.”

Jared dug his fingers into Jensen’s thighs, reached for his fantasy. 

_Jensen is a slut, he fucks anything that walks, then calls Jared at three a.m. to tell him all the nasty details. So he definitely knows his way around in the sack_

Jared worked his fingers into Jensen’s boxers, touched hot skin.

_One night they go drinking, come back to Jensen’s apartment. Not really drunk, just buzzed. Maybe they play some video games. Bio Shock. It looks awesome. Jared hasn’t played it, but Jensen has it, which is good, because Jared can’t even afford the game itself, never mind a PS3 . . ._

Jared wasn’t hearing anything now but Jensen’s heavy breathing. His thighs were warm and solid where they pressed against Jared’s shoulders. Smoke, cologne, and musky male. 

_They end up on the floor, half on top of each other. Jensen’s looking at Jared, all sexy and messed up . . ._

Jared worked the waistband of Jensen’s boxers down over his cock, tucked it under his heavy sack. Warm, smooth skin. Jensen shaved.

_. . . because he’s particular about his personal hygiene, and Jared can appreciate that, especially right now, when he’s got his hand down Jensen’s pants, and Jensen’s fingers in his hair . . ._

Jensen’s fingers slid across his cheek, curled into his hair. 

_. . . and Jared’s had a crush on Jensen since the that first day they met. The guy is seriously hot, it’s almost impossible to not think about sex with him, even if he is kind of a jerk . . ._

Jared grasped Jensen’s hardening cock (holy crap, he was really doing this), kept his eyes closed as he guided it to his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the head and met curved metal. 

What the fuck? Jared’s eyes blinked open.

Jensen’s dick was thick and uncut, the dark-pink head fully emerged from the foreskin. 

And – _fuck_ – he was pierced, a gold curved barbell right through his cock head, the knobs at the end inlaid with a tiny green stone. 

Jared heard himself groan, couldn’t stop the sound. The sight of that thick gold rod coming out of the wide pink slit was doing things to him he didn’t even know could be done. 

“Y’ like that?” Jensen said softly. Jared squirmed and bit his lip, hard. Business, this was business. Just get through it, however he had to.

“Go on, taste it,” Jensen said. 

Jared kept his eyes down, just Jensen’s crotch and lower belly in his view. His suit jacket was open, his shirt rucked up. Under tanned skin, veins led down to Jensen’s groin, standing out in sharp relief. 

Jared leaned in, tracing one line up to Jensen’s navel, back down to the base of his cock. The skin was salty with sweat, bitter with chemicals.

“Fuck,” Jensen moaned. “Blow job means you put my dick in your mouth, Jared . . .”

Jared ignored him, kept his eyes half open, watching the dull light reflect off of the jewelry . . . cock jewelry. A nervous, adrenaline-fueled giggle swelled in Jared’s throat.

_Jensen told Jared about his Prince Albert the day he got, but he wouldn’t show him. Talked about it for weeks after, told Jared how much the girls liked it, how it made the guys want to lick and touch . . ._

Jensen’s hands tightened on Jared’s head. “Suck,” he said. 

Overbearing douche bag. Yeah, definitely Jensen . . .

_. . . at least they weren’t dating. God, that would be a nightmare. But casual sex, that was . . ._

Not something Jared did.

A wave of shame and guilty panic heated Jared’s skin. So much for claiming he wasn’t a whore. He couldn’t even make this an act of self-sacrifice – just the thought of his family made him want to crawl right out of his own body.

“Stop now and all you’ve done is give me a free warmup,” Jensen said.

“Then shut up,” Jared snapped. “You’re distracting me.” _Ruining my escapist fantasy._

Jensen laughed, gripped Jared’s hair till it pulled. “You’ve really got an attitude.” His fingers dug into the hinge of Jared’s jaw, hard enough to hurt. “I like it.”

Jensen pushed his thumb into Jared’s mouth, forcing it open like he was medicating a dog. 

Jared twitched and swivelled, held still by the fingers in his hair. No, not like this. Maybe he’d pushed Jensen too far, and now Jensen was going to fuck Jared up for giving lousy head. 

Jensen’s thumb stroked the inside of Jared’s cheek. “If you’re doing this, stop fucking around.”

Jared nodded against the pressure, and Jensen let go, moving to grip the base of his cock, guiding it towards Jared’s mouth. 

Jared let him. Taking it slow and keeping it comfortable was what you did when you weren’t on your knees in the room full of strange men, sucking off your boss so he would agree to protect your dad in prison. 

Metal slid over Jared’s tongue, nudged the back of his mouth, teasing his gag reflect. Jared gulped, tried to breath through his nose. Tried not to panic. People did this all the time. Terri had told him more than one mind-scarring story about her experience deep-throating. She seemed to think the stories were funny, and if Terri could do this, Jared could do this. 

Jensen pushed in further, the head of his cock slide into Jared’s throat. Jared shuddered and gagged. _Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic._

Three minute ago he’d been halfway to a hard-on, but now he was completely soft and the sweat slicking his skin, running down his bare back was nervous tension, not arousal. 

Jensen pulled back just as Jared made a harsh gaging sound. Saliva overflowed his mouth, running warm down Jared’s chin and neck as he sucked air in through his open mouth. People did this for fun? What kind of messed of weirdo would find this shit fun?

Jensen made an odd noise, and Jared looked up, blinking to clear his vision. 

Jensen looked down through lowered lashes, his lips parted, chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. Light caught the sheen of wet lips and white teeth, and for a second Jared imagined their roles reversed, his fingers pulling Jensen’s short hair, holding him as Jared fucked his face. 

“Eyes on me,” Jensen murmured, and Jared’s mouth was filled again, all the way, making his throat spasm. He tasted come, and – oh, shit, he was letting Jensen fuck his mouth without protection. 

Jared grabbed at Jensen’s thighs, not sure if he was pushing away or pulling himself up. If Jensen was carrying something, Jared probably already had it. 

Jensen had both hands back on Jared’s head, holding him close as his slide his cock in and out, deep enough to keep Jared just on the edge of choking. 

Jensen made a weird growling sound and thrust hard, overbalancing Jared, making him hook his fingers in Jensen’s front pockets. 

His throat was filled and Jared couldn’t breath, Jensen’s hands holding his head, and Jared’s stomach tried to heave in response to his blocked throat and he swallowed convulsively around the thick length. He didn’t realize Jensen had come till he pulled out, strings of salty saliva trailing from Jared’s mouth to Jensen’s cock. 

Jared gulped oxygen into his bruised throat, shivering under a cold sweat. It was over. Oh, thank God. 

Jensen’s fingers lifted his chin, brushed his bottom lip, slipped into Jared’s mouth, stroked over his tongue once. 

Jared jerked his head away, blinked gag-induced tears from his eyes. 

Jensen laughed softly. “No after-play? You gotta learn to have more fun, kid.”

Jared wiped his mouth and stumbled to his feet, feeling small and foolish, an odd ache in his chest he couldn’t name. On the edge of his vision Jensen was grinning, lighting another cigarette, his cock and balls, shiny-wet, still hanging out of his dark blue boxers. 

Jared swallowed hard, felt the throb of bruising, tasted bitter come and soap-washed skin. The music was still playing, but Jared kept his back to the pole stage. He didn’t want to know who had just watched all that.

“Don’t you put your toys away?”

Jared darted a glance at Jensen’s relaxed smile, his shuttered eyes. For the first time since they’d met, he really hated Jensen. 

“Finish the job, Jared,” Jensen said, voice soft. 

Jared kept his head up as he stepped close, watching the wall over Jensen’s shoulder, ignoring the warm smoke blowing against his damp skin, the solid muscle his brushing his arm. Reversed order, zippers and buckles Jared had somehow forgotten how to work. 

When he was finally done, Jensen turned around, putting his back the Jared, pouring a fresh glass of whatever he was drinking. 

Business concluded. 

Jared started towards the door, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark wood. No one said anything, and Jared yanked the door closed behind him, for the first time ever relieved to hear the music, sense the crush of the club crowd, safety in the familiar. 

In the locker room Jared swished and spit mouthwash till his gums stung. 

And he didn’t think. 

Three more hours till the end of his shift.


	2. Round Two

Jared played the denial game till Sunday. Without work to distract him, drain his energy and send him into dreamless sleep, his brain kept circling back to Wednesday. He washed laundry and emptied his overflowing trash, subconsciously avoiding his phone tucked under his tangled blankets, hoping his mom just wouldn’t call today. 

In the end, the need for knowledge drove him to his computer - he still felt a little guilty for keeping it, but $300 wasn’t that much in the long run, and he needed it if he ever got back to college. 

By his fifth webpage, Jared felt sick. If anything he was reading was true, prison was a living horror story. His hands felt cold and numb as he typed in the name of the prison his dad was at. Halfway through he rethought it, backspacing to type instead, _Jensen Ackles._

If he was telling Jared the truth, Jensen had criminal connections. However screwed up that was, Jared hoped he hadn’t been lying. 

Google images had a weird mix of formal photos, Jensen at one function after another, looking sleek and beautiful, the fucking bastard, and repeated results of a mug shot that was cropped from a newspaper. It showed a young Jensen, long hair falling over his forehead, face blank and eyes dead behind the information placard.

Okay, he had a criminal record, at least. Jared enlarged one of the photos that included the news article. The date at the top was last year. Two other mugshots, both older men, were lined up with Jensen’s. They looked bored, their eyes not quite meeting the camera, in contrast with Jensen’s direct stare, unnerving in its focus. 

Across the column of text Jensen laughed in conversation with a woman whose age could be anywhere between thirty and sixty. Both were in formal wear, the camera flash blacking out everything behind them but faint shapes. The caption read, _“Jensen Ackles accompanied by Heather Reaney at the CASA Summer Gala, June 16th”._

Jared scanned the text. A drug bust in Jacksonville, NC, twelve years ago. Nineteen-year-old Jensen Manners was heading up a Ketamine drug ring. Two other men were arrested with him.

Jared blinked. Fuck. That was . . . not what he had expected.

After his arrest and time served with early release, Jensen changed his name to Ackles and cleaned up his act. Other than having his name connected with the McNulty family, Jensen looked like a nice guy. Motivated by his own rocky past, Jensen donated to youth charities and attended fund-raisers. Drug dealer and jailbird to owner of two successful night clubs and a . . . discount fashion warehouse?

Jared laughed aloud in the quiet of his apartment. What did a guy like Jensen do with a place called _Lavi’s?_

Jared opened a new tab and Googled, _Ackles + Lavi’s._

. . . a fashion warehouse that had once been investigated on suspicion of moving weapons for the McNulty family. 

Oh. Okay, that made sense. Fit with the whole skeevy image Jensen gave off. 

Or didn’t give off, because sometime between getting arrested for cooking drugs and reappearing as Mr. Ackles, Jensen had learned to hide his dead shark eyes behind a pretty white smile. He gave money to kids and wore fashion models as ornaments, and people wrote nice, inspiring newspaper pieces about him, even if they dug up his criminal past.

“I am so fucked,” Jared mumbled into the hand he had cupped over his mouth. He was feeling a little queasy. Maybe too much coffee without food. 

Maybe too much Jensen Ackles. 

Jared closed his laptop and waited for his phone to ring. He needed to hear his mother’s voice, listen to her bland updates on his dad and sisters. Five o’clock couldn’t come fast enough. 

For the next two weeks and three days, Jared didn’t see Jensen Ackles, and that was just fucking fine with him. He didn’t want to think about Jensen, but he kept hearing _three weeks, and I fuck your face,_ played on repeat in his head. 

He tried to stay away, but twice since that Sunday, he’d ended up back on the internet, reading more horror stories of prison life. It translated into sleepless nights and bad days at the club, screwing up orders and pissing off customers and co-workers alike. 

Terri gave him teasing grins, like she knew something – and she probably did. No one asked anything outright, but the one night Jared shared a shift with Jimmy, the other waiter watched Jared change into the night’s uniform, smirking when Jared glared at him. 

“Guess you finally got your shit sorted. Kudos,” he said, and left before Jared could respond.

Exactly three weeks after the infamous Wednesday, Terri pulled Jared aside at the end of his shift and handed him a card. It was one of the The Jade Room cards, a number scrawled in black ink across the back, under the words, _If you are interested in the renewing our contract:_

“Not sure if I should be jealous of you or sorry for you,” Terri said, her gaze sharp on Jared’s skin. 

Jared shoved the card in his pocket, grabbed his bag. “Thanks.”

He waited till he was home before he called. It wasn’t Jensen who answered, the voice unfamiliar, male. 

“Um, is Jens – Mr. Ackles there?”

The man made a snorting sound. “This Jared? A car will pick you up in an hour.”

Jared frowned. “What? No. No, I don’t want him coming here.” This is was Jared’s own, maybe shitty, place where he got away from it all. 

“You sure as hell aren’t calling the shots here, kid.” 

_click_

“Shit! Fucking asshole.” 

Jared spent the hour pacing and chewing his nails till they were ragged and raw, undecided if he should just pack his shit and buy a bus ticket, or stay where he was and wait for that car. 

In the end, he pulled on a jacket, grabbed his phone and keys, texted Terri _call me at eight pls,_ and went downstairs to wait. The call request was a system Terri and her friends used when they were working their side jobs of sex for money. If they couldn’t make the check in with the friend who was on a job, they were supposed to call the police. 

Jared was in front of his building at 4 a.m. sharp, and seconds later a dark Lincoln glided up to the curb. At least Jensen was punctual. 

But Jensen wasn’t in the car, and Jared hesitated, faced with the two strange men. 

“Why didn’t Jensen come?” Jared asked. 

The guy who emerged from the passenger side didn’t look much older than Jared, straight black hair down to his shoulders, printed t-shirt under his jacket. He opened the back door and rolled his eyes. 

“Mr. Ackles doesn’t buy his own fucking coffee, no way he’s doing pickup duty.”

“I’m not his fucking coffee,” Jared said, chest tight.

The guy laughed. “Whatever.”

 _Get in the game, or give up and go home._ Jared sighed, slid across the leather seat, the door slamming behind him. As they pulled into traffic, long-hair-t-shirt guy turned on the radio, hip-hop music slamming through the speakers. Jared winced and the driver reached over and snapped it off. He was wearing leather gloves.

“What?” t-shirt guy said. “This is fucking boring.”

The driver didn’t say anything, but t-shirt guy left the radio off. 

After twenty minutes of driving, Jared gave up paying attention to where they were. He checked his phone, but Terri hadn’t texted back. Jared pretended like he was busy, anyway. 

It took eighteen games of Angry Birds to get where they were going.

“Hey there, boy-toy, time to play.”

T-shirt guy was hanging over his seat, grinning at Jared. The car slowed and stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jared said, automatically. Considering what he was doing, there weren’t a lot of good comebacks to that kind of shit. 

“Dan,” the driver said. His voice was soft, high for a man’s, but it made t-shirt guy sit right back down. 

“Just fucking with him,” he said. 

Jared ducked down at the window, trying to get a look at where they were. He had never been inside Four Seasons, but he’d been past it. He knew the flags, the lights, the window displaying ZILLI couture.

“Take him up, I’m parking,” Mr. Gloves said. Dan got out of the car, and Jared followed. 

“What’s Jensen doing here?” Jared was actually a little relived. Somehow, it felt safer than a private residence. 

Dan gave Jared a disbelieving look. “Like I’d tell you, cock-warmer.”

Jared smiled, imagined cold-cocking Dan, realigning that perfectly straight nose. “You mean, like you even know, delivery boy.” 

Dan waited till they were at the elevators before he laughed, like he was processing it. “Mr. Ackles must have fun with you.”

Jared’s stomach lurched. Unexpectedly, the image of Jensen’s pierced cock flashed behind his eyes. Even with the phantom ache in his throat, Jared couldn’t ignore that picture, kept pulling it back: the gold against pink skin, just a hint of milky pre-come where the thickness of the barbell emerged. 

Jared almost jumped when the elevator doors slid open. Dan was watching him with a smirk. Jared ignored him and they rode up in silence.

Jared’s nerves were knotted up with a weird mix of fear and aroused expectation. Jensen was a criminal, ex-criminal, whatever; he was obviously capable of doing bad things, and Jared was in no position to stop him. Everything he had been taught as a kid told him he was going to end up a statistic, his mangled body found by some poor jogger. 

Jared’s cock told him it really wanted to find out what getting fucked by a pierced cock felt like.  
Whatever else you could say about Jared’s douchebag boss, he was hot. 

The door Dan knocked at was opened by a guy in a sports jacket. When he stepped back to let them him, Jared caught a flash of a shoulder holster. Please don’t let this end with me in a river somewhere. 

“Brought the kid,” Dan said, grinning. 

_Fuck you, Danny boy, you’re no older than me._

Shoulder holster guy didn’t look at Jared. “Bedroom,” he said, and locked the door. 

Dan made a shooing motion, but Jared was already walking, leaving him behind. Jared didn’t brother knocking, just turned the handle and went right in, swinging the door shut behind him. 

Jensen was standing with his back to the door, jacket off, sleeves rolled back. He stood with one hip shot, pulling the fabric of his pants tight across his ass, and Jared’s gaze wanted to linger, but he was here against all good judgement and he shouldn’t _like_ it.

He was about to say something, but Jensen turned, shuttered eyes looking Jared up and down, and Jared saw he had a phone to his ear. Whoever was on the other end was doing all the talking. For a long moment, Jared stood there in the dead silence while Jensen watched him.

“Of course,” Jensen said into the phone as he eyed Jared’s crotch. “Alright. See you tomorrow.” He set the phone aside and pulled off his loose tie before advancing on Jared. 

“Hey.” He smiled slow and warm, that nice, white coverup for shark dead shark eyes.. “Decided to keep doing business with me?” 

That kind of smile was sure to fuck with his head, Jared decided. “Because this is something I can really shop around for,” he said. 

Jensen’s smile slid away from his lips but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes stayed. “Maybe you just don’t know where to shop, but I promise I’m giving you the best deal out there.”

Jared didn’t move when Jensen stepped in close and settled his hands on Jared’s hips. “Same as last time? Three weeks for a blow job?” he said, avoiding Jensen’s eyes. 

Jensen gaze went to Jared’s lips, and Jared was immediately overly conscious of everything he was doing, couldn’t stop the self-conscious swipe of tongue over his lower lip. 

“That currency has dropped in value,” Jensen said, still watching Jared’s lips. “It’s one week now.”

Jared jerked back, tried to shake off the hands holding his hips, but Jensen moved with him, spun him around, pushed him towards the bed before letting Jared stumble out of his grip.

“You can’t fucking do that!” Jared said, voice sharp with helpless anger. “I didn’t agree –”

Jensen started unbuttoning his shirt. “You can agree now. A blow job buys you one week. Let me fuck you and it’s three.”

“Wha – you . . . “ Jared stopped, too tangled inside up to vocalize it. He could feel tears balling up in his throat, frustration at being jerked around like this.

Jensen tossed his shirt in the direction of a chair and unbuckled his belt. 

“You could have mentioned that when you sent me that number,” Jared said, voice hoarse. 

Jensen shrugged. “Card was kinda small.” 

Jared choked a laughed, gulped back tears. 

Jensen pulled the belt free. “What’s it going to be, then?”

Sex was normal and people did it all the time. They also did it for money all the time. This was a simple business transaction. “Three weeks,” Jared said. “And you use a fucking condom this time.”

Jensen’s laugh sounded amused.

It wasn’t till he was face-down in fluffy white pillows, Jensen’s latex-covered dick pushing inside him, that the thought came to Jared: he was losing his virginity to a manipulative ex-con, who was also his boss, offering his ass up in exchange for a service. Not that Jared cared about the loss of virginity, he’d already had sex with girls – okay, one girl – but what a way to go. It was like a crappy porno. Bad to bone and still so young. 

Behind him Jensen groaned, fingers gripping and releasing over Jared’s hips as he pushed in steadily without stopping. Jared sank his teeth into the pillow and breathed hard through his nose. Even with the lube and fingering, it was a sharp, tearing throb. 

Jensen’s balls settled hot and heavy against Jared’s body, a totally unexpected sensation. Hands stroked up his back, fingers tangled in his hair, and Jared jumped, making some kind of noise into his mouthful of pillow when teeth bit down on his shoulder. Great, Jensen was a biter. Everything already hurt enough, and Jared was pretty sure his thighs were going to cramp up if Jensen didn’t quit leaning on him, and _fuck,_ his ass really hurt.

Jared couldn’t hold back a whimper, breathing humid air trapped by cloth and stuffing, Jensen’s hand keeping his head down. The slow drag of Jensen’s cock as he pulled back made Jared shiver in discomfort, then grunt as it drove back in. Everyone he’d talked to said it hurt at first, but got better later. Well, no shit. No one would ever do it if it felt like this. Pierced cocks were no longer interesting, Jared just hoped Jensen would finish soon. 

“Relax,” Jensen said, voice low and husky. 

Jared huffed into the damp pillow. Yeah, trying to, asshole. Maybe if you weren’t – 

A shock of _goodyeahfuckyes_ shivered through Jared. Prostate. It still hurt, but cock felt so much better than his own fingers stroking over his insides. He wasn’t even thinking when he arched his back, hoping to get Jensen’s cock there again. 

Jensen moved both hands to Jared’s hips, like that was a signal. Maybe it was. A guy like Jensen probably fucked more people in a year than most did in a lifetime. He’d know all about this stuff.  
Jared turned his head on the pillow, adding sight to sensation just as Jensen pulled all the way out, then thrust back in. The jewelry in Jensen’s cock pressed against the walls of Jared’s rectum, driving right over his prostate, and Jared couldn’t hold back his moan at the bone-melting sensation. More pleasure than pain now, so fucking intense. Jared reached for his cock, barely had a grip before Jensen was pulling his hand away. 

“Not yet,” Jensen said. He was moving in and out of Jared in long, hard strokes, that fucking cock jewelry catching Jared’s prostate every few thrusts. Jared’s knees moved wider, each drive of Jensen’s hips rocking him into the pillows. He didn’t realize he was moaning steadily until Jensen, his voice low and sex-rough, said “I knew you’d be a noisy fuck.”

Jared’s stomach muscles clenched and shivered. “Shut up, hurry up,” he gasped into the pillow. God, he was so close, just needed a little more. He reached for his cock again and Jensen grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the bed, slowed his movement till the drag of his erection inside Jared was maddening as it slid out with a wet, dirty sound.

“You’ll come just like this,” Jensen said softly, “or you don’t come at all.”

Jared was practically writhing he was so worked up, panting as sweat rolled down the groove of his spine. “Fuck, just move,” he said. Definitely didn’t whine. 

Jensen let go of Jared’s wrist, rocked back into him, the wet slap of skin-on-skin picking up a rhythm till he was fucking Jared hard and deep, slick and filthy. Jared was babbling nonsense, not even sure what he was saying but he couldn’t stop it. Every nerve in his body was getting in on the action, and it felt so fucking good he was going to explode. 

Jensen’s grip on Jared hips tightened, pulling him back, Jensen’s cock deep inside as his body jerked against Jared, and Jared came with a shout, muscles locking up so hard it almost hurt. Everything kind of faded, Jared wasn’t sure if he was holding himself up if Jensen was, but when Jensen pulled out and moved away Jared immediately missed the warmth and weight, the hands on his hips and the pressure of Jensen’s cock inside. He sprawled on the bed, not ready to move yet, and watched Jensen disappear into the bathroom. 

Goddamn, what had Jared been missing all these years.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

The thing about getting off on your sex for money is that it delays the moral crisis. Jared hardly remembered checking in with Terri or arriving home. He slept hard till his alarm woke him, sore and lethargic, at two p.m. He shuffled into jeans and a sweatshirt with the intention of finding coffee. Waiting in line for a triple shot butterscotch latte, it hit him.

He had sex with Jensen, and liked it. Jensen’s cock, in his ass. And it was undeniably the best fucking thing he’d ever experienced. 

“Goddammit!” Jared said, and the girl in front of him turned with wide eyes. 

“Sorry,” Jared smiled weakly. 

Just because he liked the sex didn’t mean he had to like Jensen. The guy was just using Jared to get off, so why couldn’t Jared do the same? And now he sounded like Terri, but she had a point. She had been doing the sex for money thing longer than he had, and she didn’t seem too messed up by it. Maybe the secret was to get everything you could out of it and not worry about the rest. The orgasm was a perquisite of the job. Who could complain about that?

“How’d it go last night?” Terri asked halfway through Jared’s shift. “You sounded kind of out of it when I called.”

Jared felt his face heat up. “Uh, fine. It went – it was good.” 

Terri made an “Aha” face. 

“Not like – ” Jared rolled his eyes and huffed. “Good like, I didn’t end up in the river good. Stop making this awkward for me.”

Terri smiled. “Just trading tips and tricks, Jare-bear. You landed Mr. Moneybags right out of the gate, and I say good for you, baby. Make the most of it.”

Jared wanted to ask if the “devalued currency” shit Jensen pulled was typical, if it was something Terri had to deal with, but then he’d have to admit he wasn’t actually getting paid. Ever since the mystery was lifted, Jared had been paying more attention to the customers who made offers. He still said no, but now he took the time to imagine what it would be like if he said yes. Male or female, attractive or not, the image always left Jared with a vague feeling of discontent. By the end of the week he had a consistent tension headache and was popping ibuprofen like candy. 

“You look like shit,” Ashley said on Saturday, two weeks and three days after the Four Seasons fuck, which is how Jared was now referring to it. 

“Great. Matches how I feel,” Jared said, voice hoarse. Seemed he was developing a sore throat to go with his headache. 

It was raining by the time Jared left the club, exiting out the back. He pulled up his hood, glitter flaking off from the wide, theatrical stripes under both eyes. Everything about the day had sucked, even the night’s uniform. He dodged puddles, heading out to the street and a cold walk to the subway. Head down, Jared nearly walked straight into a couple coming down the sidewalk. He twisted into a sidestep, tossing a “Sorry,” over his shoulder, and then missed his next two steps completely. 

Jensen, a tall blond with gauged ears taking up his left side, returned Jared’s stare with a quirked eyebrow. His bright green gaze glanced over Jared’s odd combination of club costume and outerwear, lingered on the glitter. Jared looked back; his cheeks flushed with cold, hair mussed, wearing a navy peacoat and black gloves, Jensen looked . . . really fucking good. 

“No problem,” Jensen said, already moving away, hand on the blond guy’s back, pushing him towards the open door of the car waiting at the curb. The door was held by a vaguely familiar man in need of a shave, wearing a grey beanie and leather gloves. 

Jared’s sluggish brain processed. Car. Driver. Model-looking blond dude. 

Jensen picking up a fuck. 

Business as usual.

Jensen was getting in the back seat with blond-and-pierced, and Mr. Gloves, who was taller than Jared had thought, was watching Jared stand and stare. Jared turned quickly, hitched his bag up over his shoulder and kept his walk at a completely normal pace. Twenty steps later, Jensen’s car glided past, dark windows beaded with rain, reflecting back the city lights. 

“Fuck,” Jared said. His breath left a tiny puff of steam hanging in the cold air.


	3. In Too Deep

Jared woke Monday morning to his bedroom tilting at a forty-degree angle. He crawled across the floor to get his phone and call in sick for work, then crawled back to bed. It seemed only a minute later when Terri showed up at his door with a plastic grocery bag of tea, vitamin C, Tylenol, and NyQuil. Jared squinted at her, his brain fever-confused. “Did I give you my address?”

“You called me, dummy,” Terri laughed. 

Wednesday disappeared untouched. Thursday morning Jared woke up for the first time feeling he wasn’t going to die. He checked his phone, the two missed calls, five texts and looked at the date. One day and three weeks past the Four Seasons fuck. 

Jared sighed and flopped back to his sweaty, sick-smelling pillows. 

He spent Friday sleeping in-between episodes of _Psych._ He didn’t call the number on the card, tucked between books stacked against the wall. 

That night Jared dreamed he was back in his highschool girlfriend’s bedroom, but now it was Jensen sprawled out on the lavender sheets, head thrown back, mouth open, moaning Jared’s name. Jared lay between his spread thighs, Jensen’s thick cock, red and shiny-wet, in his hand. The weak light from the window shone on the gold ring at the head, milky with pre-come.

Jared opened his mouth and leaned in, ready to take that thick length down, feel the jolt and rub of silky skin and warm metal. 

“Jared,” Jensen gasped, voice deep and rough. “Jared, fuck me.”

Jared woke up, his dick still jerking and spilling inside his boxers. He lay there, panting, completely awake and yet still tangled in the dream.When he finally got out of bed, Jared called into work to see if he could come in, just to have something to occupy his mind, but his shift was already filled. Come back Monday. 

Sunday evening his mom called, and the first thing out of her mouth was, “Your dad was attacked yesterday.”

Jared’s stomach dropped out and his head felt too light. “Dad? Mom, is he – ”

“He’s in the prison hospital, they said it isn’t bad, but he’ll be there for a while.” 

Jared could tell his mom had been crying, her voice nasal and hoarse. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, fear and guilt making his own throat ache. 

His mom went on like she didn’t hear. “It was a . . . a misunderstanding between him and some other inmates, or something . . .” Her voice moved away from the phone, came back a moment later. “The girls are upset. I told them this morning.”

Jared closed his eyes, worked to keep his voice normal. “How are they? I mean, otherwise. Mom, how are you?”

Jared’s mom gave a watery laugh. “Oh, hanging in there.” 

When he ended the call with his mom, Jared fumbled the card out from between books and dialed the number off the back with shaking fingers. 

“Let me speak to Jensen,” he said when the call picked up. 

“Jared.” The man on the other end was eating something, not bothering to move the phone away as he chewed loudly. “Missed your appointment last week, but I’ll see if I can pencil you into Mr. Ackles’ schedule.”

Jared dug the heel of his hand into his aching temple. “I don’t want a fucking appointment, I want to talk to him, now!”

The man laughed. “You know you’ve got this backwards? Whores don’t make the calls, they take them. From now on, don’t call, he’ll call you.”

“Don’t hang up, you –” The line was dead. 

“Shit. Shit!” 

Okay, his dad was in the prison hospital, he would be safe for a while, right? Unless this was Jensen. Maybe he had _ordered_ the attack. What if he had guards or staff working for him, doing favors? Is that how this shit worked? This was his fault. He’d fucked around, hadn’t taken the situation seriously. 

By Monday, Jared was on a major caffeine overdose just to function. The vague fear that Jensen was done with him bumped around in the back of Jared’s mind, like a moth loose in a room. Tuesday evening, when a guy with dark, angled eyes and the build of a buffalo stopped him at the bar to tell him “Mr. Ackles” wanted him in the back lounge, all Jared felt was relief. He didn’t even bother to let anyone know he was stepping out before following the messenger back to the lounge. 

Jensen was at the bar, alone this time, and Jared’s escort crossed the room to join two other men at a pool table. 

“Did you do it?” Jared asked, aiming for confrontational even as he felt his stance settle into defensive. 

“Why would I,” Jensen said mildly.“You’re subscription ran out. Losing protection made daddy a little too obvious.”

“I was sick,” Jared snapped. Despite how obvious the truth seemed, some part of Jared had thought he could manipulate the situation.

Jensen looked at him, eyes hooded and blank. “Not my problem, Jared.” 

“Okay,” Jared said quickly. “Okay, I’m here now. But if my dad’s getting hurt anyway, there’s no point in doing this.”

Jensen snubbed out his cigarette in one of the ashtrays along the bar. His eyes ran over Jared. “You want to upgrade your plan? You come when I call, and daddy get twenty-four hour protection.” 

It’s like the fucker had it all planned out, but Jared couldn’t say no. Which meant it probably was a plan. “Are you paying for transportation?” It’s the only kind of bargain Jared could think to drive. “Because that’s usually included in –”

“Jesus Christ, what did you do, read the hooker handbook?” Jensen sounded pissed, but he had a wry smile pulling at his mouth. “I’ll send a car, or call a taxi. That work for you?” His hands went to his belt, unbuckling. 

“Pants off. Over the bar,” Jensen said, and Jared’s gaze immediately darted across the lounge to the three men playing pool, his skin heating under a blush. 

“That’s a good look on you,” Jensen said as he pressed Jared forward, flat against smooth wood. Smoke curled around his head, Jensen’s fingers rough as they pulled his pants down.

Jensen fucked him hard and fast, and Jared tried not to think, tried to ignore his erection sliding against cool, glossy wood. Even with the embarrassment that knotted his stomach, the slick slid of Jensen’s cock inside made him shiver and grind and bite his tongue to stay quiet. Jared hated himself a little, hated Jensen a lot more, when he left the lounge still hard and jerked off in the men’s room.

It could have been a script for the next month of Jared’s life. Jensen didn’t cuddle, he didn’t do pillow talk, and he didn’t give a flying fucking if Jared got off or not. As soon as he came, they were done. It pissed Jared off more than he wanted to admit. Sometimes the sex was fantastic, others is just left him frustrated, jerking himself off after Jensen had disappeared into the bathroom. It didn’t help to remind himself that this wasn’t supposed to be about getting off, Jared’s dick and his brain were not on speaking terms.

Then Jensen started taking Jared home. 

The first time it happened, Jared thought the taxi driver had gotten the address wrong. He was just explaining the mistake when the back door of the taxi was yanked open to reveal the looming buffalo-like physique belonging to Rick, one of Jensen’s guys. 

“Never mind,” Jared said, and got out while Rick paid the fare, then followed him inside. 

In the elevator, Rick pulled out his perpetual bag of Swedish Fish and offered some to Jared, as per usual. Jared had decided Rick was one of the good guys, employee of a criminal notwithstanding, and not just because he gave Jared candy; he would actually talk to Jared, even called him by his name. Mr. Gloves, who’s name was actually O’Connell, rarely said anything at all, and Dan was still a shit head. Jared wasn’t sure who he’d talked to on the phone those first few times – maybe Mark or Dekker – but neither one of them acknowledge Jared. Rick seemed the exception. 

So when Jared asked why he was there Rick didn’t give a dick answer, just told Jared that Jensen had the 18th floor penthouse. “Family owns the building, so, you know, good deal,” Rick said around a mouthful of candy. 

That gave Jared a weird little chill, but it was immediately forgotten when he followed Rick into the apartment, dimly lit, uncovered windows showing the lit city below. Jensen was standing at the dining room table, looking over loose, printed pages spread out across dark wood, and he was wearing jeans. Casual looked unexpectedly hot on him. A tall woman with a greying pixie cut looked over his shoulder, her pointed finger moving to connect one page to the other. 

“So you sign a three year contract. Shipping wont cost as much as –”

Jensen looked up, gaze flickering to Rick, then settling on Jared. “Work up an annual estimate,” he said, still looking at Jared. 

Pixie cut lady glanced over at Jared, started shuffling papers together. “Sure, I’ll email it.”

Jared was obviously fucked in the head, because when Jensen crossed the room, jeans low on his hips, hair a careless mess, Jared’s stomach did a little flip and his dick started fattening up. 

Jensen stopped right in front of him, head tilted so their lips were inches apart and slid a hand over Jared’s hip, cupped his ass.

Jensen didn’t kiss, though he sure as fuck liked biting, so Jared wasn’t prepared when Jensen grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a hard kiss, immediately working his tongue into Jared’s mouth. Jensen’s mouth was hot, and tasted like hard alcohol and nicotine. His tongue slid over Jared’s teeth, stroked the inside of his cheek, and then pulled back. Jensen licked his lips, fingers still tangled in Jared’s hair. “Rick giving you candy again? S’ a fucking awful habit.”

Jared closed his mouth and swallowed. “Like smoking?”

Jensen caught Jared’s wrist, leading him back through the living room, up a set of stairs. “That why you get a boner every time you watch me smoke?”

Well, fuck. Jared didn’t think Jensen had noticed his weird smoking kink. “I don’t!” 

“Right.” Jensen let go of Jared’s arm, started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Who was the lady –”

Jensen, shirtless and jeans unbuttoned, crowded into Jared. “You’re not here to talk about my accountant,” he said, mouth ghosting over Jared’s neck. “Naked, on the bed. Now.” He turned Jared and gave him a shove towards the king size bed. 

Jared tossed his jacket onto a chair and pulled his t-shirt over his head while Jensen watched, face impassive.

After that first night, it was always Jensen’s apartment, and it only took a few weeks for it to start messing with Jared’s head. It wasn’t like he thought they were a couple, or even exclusive. More than once Jared caught sight of Jensen at the club, sometimes with a guy, sometimes a girl. Jensen probably had a new body in his bed every night of the week. 

But he didn’t take them home, according to Rick, when Jared asked totally casual. There was no reason for it to mean anything, but Jared’s brain told him it did. Jensen was still a douchebag, and a more-or-less self-confessed criminal, but sometimes after sex he pulled Jared half on top of him, nibbled up Jared’s neck and over his jaw, kissed his mouth soft and slow. Jared let himself be stupid, let himself forget.

Then were other times, events that reminded Jared of who Jensen really was. 

The for the first two weeks of the new year, Jared didn’t get a call. Then, halfway through his shift the following Saturday, Dan sauntered up to him, smirking as he ran his eyes up and down Jared’s half naked body.

“Want something?” Dammit, the guy really got to him.

“Just here to pick up Mr. Ackles’ boy-toy,” Dan grinned. “So did you wax your legs or shave them?”

“Fuck you, Danny,” Jared, and headed for the locker room. 

On the drive through the city, Jared tried to smother the pleased anticipation warming his skin. Jensen wasn’t his fucking boyfriend. He didn’t even like Jensen, the guy was a jerk. 

Except he did, and when had that even happened? Was Jared that shallow to fawn over a good looking guy, even one that treated him crap most of the time? Plus, there was the issue of coercion and blackmail. Maybe not technically blackmail, but close enough.

Jared worried the issue all the way to Jensen’s living room, where Jensen leaned against the window, tailored suit pants molding to his thighs, tumbler cradled in one hand. Maybe it was conditioning, but everything about the look said _sex_ to Jared, and his body was responding accordingly. So he blurted out the first contrary thing that came to mind. 

“You can’t keep pulling me away from my job, my boss is getting pissed.”

Jensen’s mouth quirked in that way Jared had come to identify as amusement. “I am your boss.” 

He turned and looked Jared up and down, and in his usual pathetic, horny way, Jared forgot all the very good reasons being involved with Jensen Ackles was a bad idea. 

Jared was flat on his back across a couch, shirt gone, pants unbuttoned, Jensen straddling his hips, biting his way up Jared’s chest, when the front door buzzed and Dan crossed over from the kitchen to answer it.

Jensen licked across Jared’s collarbone as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Jared’s jeans, tugging them down. 

“Fuck,” gasped Jared. 

“And it’s none of your fucking business,” a woman’s voice yelled from the foyer. Jensen’s head came up as there was a rush of footsteps into the room.

“Jensen!” The English accent was clear. Jared tilted his head back, the upside down image of long, dark hair and red coat blurred in motion as a very tall woman marched straight for the couch and Jensen. 

“What th’ fuck,” barked Jensen, sitting up and pulling Jared with him. 

“Sorry, Mr. Ackles, she –” Dan was reaching for the woman’s arm, but Dekker was already there, pale eyes and whipcord arms, grabbing the girls elbows, pulling her arms behind her back.

Breathless, she shouted, “It’s your child, you bastard, take some responsibil – ”

In one motion Jensen was off the couch and grabbing the woman by her hair, twisting her head back. Dekker let go her arms and backed away, and the girl dropped to her knees, her fingers scrabbling at Jensen’s wrist in a frantic, pained way that made a sick fear trickle through Jared’s gut as he watched.

Jensen leaned into the woman’s face, said softly, “Lorna, you really should have taken your money and gone home like a good whore. This shit,” he jerked her hair once and the woman whimpered, “is getting old. So now Dekker is going to take you to a hospital and we are going to get this taken care of, and if I ever see you again –” 

“You’re killing your own baby,” the woman sobbed.

Jensen straightened, and then he was dragging her by her hair, sliding across the wood floor, crying and kicking. Jared realized he was standing now, mouth open, but his voice caught dead in his throat. _What the fuck are you doing? Stop!_ his brain screamed.

“I’m not killing anything, the doctor is.” Jensen let go abruptly and the woman collapsed on the floor in front of Dekker’s leather boots.

“And you better make goddamn sure it’s done,” Jensen said, now looking at Dekker, and Dekker nodded, hauled the girl to her upright and propelled her out of the room. The profanity-laced sobbing cut off with the front door closing.

Jensen turned on Dan who was standing to one side, frozen, eyes wide. 

“You let something like this happen again and I will break every bone in your worthless body.” Jensen’s voice was soft, a tone Jared had never heard before. 

“Yes, sir,” Dan said, more breath than voice. 

Jensen turned, stalked to the sideboard, turned over a glass and started pouring. “Take Jared home,” he said without turning. 

“Yes, sir,” Dan said again, like he’d turned into a puppet. He made a frantic motion with one hand towards Jared’s scattered clothes, and Jared came back to himself, hands shaking, muscles knotted with tension. Glass clinked as Jensen set down the bottle and Jared moved slow, picking up his shirt, reaching for his shoes. 

The ride down to the garage was, for the first time ever, totally silent as Dan fidgeted in one corner, never looking at Jared. Jared really couldn’t blame him. If he’d just screwed up like that, with a boss like Jensen, he’d be shitting his pants too. 

And thank fuck, thank fucking fuck Jared kept up religiously with his birth control.

Jared had a long few weeks without a call to contemplate and shudder at the memory, bring it up fresh in his mind. Every time a thought involving Jensen drifted too close to pleasant, Jared was back at the apartment. He imagined himself in Lorna’s place, showing up at Jensen’s penthouse, pregnant and demanding acknowledgment. The idea left him feeling cold and anxious. 

“Never going to fucking happen,” he said aloud to the bathroom mirror, the heavy thud of club music leaking through the walls. There was no way he would put himself at Jensen’s mercy like that. What he was doing now wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.


	4. Collateral

The next time Jared saw Jensen it was the day before Valentines, and Jensen didn’t say more than two words that weren’t dirty, sex-slurred praise. He didn’t seem to notice (didn’t care) that Jared was stiff and silent as he pulled him down, hands gripping too tight. Somewhere between stripping out of his clothes and Jensen mumbling _so fucking pretty_ against Jared’s stomach, Jared forgot caution, caught up in the sensation of strong hands and hot mouth. 

Jared was seconds from coming when Jensen’s hand bumped over Jared’s hip, grabbed his leaking cock and worked it in hard, choppy strokes. Jared screamed Jensen’s name as he came for what felt like forever, pulsing hot and sticky over the tangled sheets. He went home covered in bruises, hazy and languid with a bone-deep satisfaction that smothered his fear and shame.

He dreamed Jensen almost every night; at some point he’d started looking forward to it. 

Midweek the beginning of March, Jensen showed up at The Jade Room a few hours into Jared’s shift. Crossing the floor with a tray of empty glasses, Jared looked up and spotted Jensen at the bar. His eyes were occupied somewhere south of Jared’s Tokyo schoolgirl-length kilt, the second costume in a week of Irish for St. Paddy’s day. Jared hadn’t bothered to point out kilts were Scottish in origin. 

It threw Jared off stride seeing Jensen there all of a sudden, and worse, his dick was having a Pavlovian response even though his libido was usually about a -2 when he was working. 

Jensen was still standing there, watching, when Jared dropped off his glasses at the bar, and Jared tired to pretend he hadn’t seen him. If Jensen wanted to fuck, he’d let Jared know, or just stay there and watch in that creepy, possessive way he had that made Jared aware of his every movement, made him feel like the only thing in Jensen’s world.

Jared filled two orders before Jensen approached him, strolling down the bar, uninhabited by the quickly filling floor.

“Uh, hey,” Jared said, ducking his head down, trying to look busier than he was.

Jensen slid his cigarette case out from his inside jacket pocket. “You’re fired.”

Jared looked up, caught off-guard. “Wha – I’m what?”

Jensen placed a cigarette between his lips, bent his head to light it. “Fired. No longer employed. Now go change.”

Jared stood, arrested in motion, and the moment stretched long, an island of silence in the ocean of constant noise. Son of a bitch. Was he for real? “You can’t fire me,” Jared said, trying to sound like he actually believed it. 

Jensen looked up, smoke leaking from both nostrils, eyes electric-green in the club lights. “Oh, I can’t?”

Jared’s stomach knotted and his chest started to tighten with a familiar ache. How had he been so stupid to tie himself up with something so cruel. “Look, Jensen, I need th – ”

“I don’t give a fuck, Jared,” Jensen said with a smile. “Go change out of that hooker costume and get your ass out to the car. You’re done here.”

Jared couldn’t even identify the source of the fear that dripped like ice water through his veins, too quickly mixed with anger. It felt like he should have seen this coming, but fuck, he had not expected his job to be the issue. When they were fucking it was hard to remember Jensen actually _was_ his boss. The other waiters and bar tenders were staying clear of Jared’s conversation; he wouldn’t be getting any help here.

He left Jensen smoking at the bar and went to the locker rooms to change. When he exited through the rear door, he was met by a swirl of fat, wet snow flakes, the pavement already gathering a white blanket. O’Connell was waiting, a dark, hunched figure to follow Jared to the car. When he reached for the door, Jared grabbed the handle, knocking O’Connell’s hand away.

“I’m not a fucking pre-schooler,” he said, throwing himself into the backseat, yanking the door shut behind him. 

Jensen looked up from tablet he was messing with, glancing over Jared’s ripped jeans and half boots, inspecting. Jared turned towards the window as they moved into traffic. “Where are we going? I need to get home so I can start looking for a new job before I end up on the street.” He tried for sarcastic, but the words came out more choked and miserable. 

Jensen flipped the cover of his tablet and dropped it on the seat between them. “Don’t bother. I’m taking care of it,” he said. 

Jared snorted “Yeah, I don’t think so, I can get my own job. I’m sure there are other clubs that don’t fire people for no fucking reason.”

“You’re not working at a club.” Jensen pulled out his cigarette case, snapped it open. Addict, Jared thought, because he wanted to hate everything about Jensen right now. But he still watched the flare of the lighter in the reflection of his window, the hollow under Jensen’s cheekbones, the dark fringe of his eyelashes. “I’ll work wherever I want to,” Jared said. 

“You enjoy dressing like a slut, spending your nights catering to intoxicated losers?” Jensen’s voice was sharp, too loud inside the close space of the car. O’Connell and Mark, a hulking shape in the front passenger seat, didn’t so much as twitch, but Jared was intensely aware of their presence. It felt like being a child getting a reprimand in public

It was in his mind to say, _you seem to like it just fine_ , point out that he already was a whore, there to be fucked at Jensen’s beck-and-call, but as soon as the words were in his mouth, the shame squirmed in his stomach. It was all true, but each night he left Jensen, suffused with an easy satisfaction that could not be upset by the thoughts his more rational mind cringed under. Whatever irritation it would spark in Jensen, it flayed Jared’s pride raw and kept him silent. 

He hunched away from Jensen, leaned his forehead against the cold window glass. “I’m hungry. The least you can do is buy me dinner, now that I’m unemployed.”

Jensen made a sound, irritation or amusement, Jared couldn’t tell. But then he said, “You like Thai?”

“I like anything,” Jared replied honestly. The tension was melting from his muscles, some hidden trigger in their conversation avoided. Jared didn’t think about it too hard. He focused on the rest of the night. Food, sex. (Jensen taking him to get food, eating with him.)

It was snowing in earnest by the time they pulled up in front of a place with no visible sign and windows full of golden lanterns. Jensen leaned forward to talk O’Connell, or maybe Mark, and Jared popped his door open and scrambled out. He was pretty sure Dekker had been the dickhead on the phone, but Mark never so much as looked Jared in the eye and moved around him like he was a piece of furniture. It was almost worse than being harassed by Dan. But fuck that, Jared was going to eat actual food for once, have sex with a good chance of getting off, and he wasn’t going to think about anything for the rest of the night. 

Halfway down the sidewalk he heard the car door slam, and Jensen was there, smoke and rich cologne, to pull open the restaurant door and hold it for Jared to walk through. 

Inside was excessively warm and scented by lemon grass. There was the low drone of conversation punctuated by a muted clamor from the kitchen. A girl in a black and gold patterned dress met them with menus in hand. 

“Mr. Ackles, welcome,” she smiled. “Two?”

Jensen tugged off his gloves and Jared watched his fingers curl and uncurl. “Yeah. Let’s have something upstairs.”

Like he owned the place. King Ackles got whatever the fuck he wanted. Jared gave a mental eye-roll. The hostess didn’t seem to mind, she just smiled and waited while Jensen handed off his coat, then beckoned them to follow. 

Jared trailed behind Jensen and the hostess, up a case of stairs that opened on a long room. All the tables were lit by tiny hanging lanterns, and the walls were papered in a pattern of birds and tree and flowers. There was the sound of falling water Jared couldn’t locate, a soft rhythm under the conversation of the other diners, and at the far end of the room, under bright lights, there was a tree, eight feet of yellow blossoms. Tiny shapes darted around it. The hostess led the way to a table across the room, and coming closer Jared saw the darting, fluttering shapes were tiny birds, maybe finches, and the whole display was completely closed off behind a wall of glass. 

Jared was so busy staring at the display, when Jensen pulled a chair out from the table and stood back, for a moment Jared had no fucking clue what was going on. Realization flushed his skin hot, and for one second he was going to walk around and take the chair at the other side of the table, ignore Jensen’s misplaced overtures, but his legs moved without his consent and then Jensen was sliding the chair in as Jared settled into it. 

Jared unfolded his menu so he didn’t have to look at Jensen, and decided to order every single thing that sounded even remotely good.

Jensen ordered a bottle of wine with his meal, and the waiter turned to Jared. By his sixth entree, the guy’s eyes had gone wide, but Jensen was smirking. 

“Making yourself sick isn’t going to get you out of fucking,” he said when the waiter had gone.

Through the glass Jared watched a white and yellow finch settle on a near branch. The restaurant should really mic in the bird sounds. That would be neat. 

Jared shrugged. “Who says I’m trying to get out of anything? I just need to eat while I can. Who knows where my next meal is coming from.”

“You’re always so fucking dramatic. I can see why you went for theater.”

Jared opened his mouth, about to ask how the hell Jensen knew that, then remembered he put it on his résumé. Which meant Jensen read his résumé. Not as bad as stalking Jared at school, but still kinda creepy. 

“It’s design and production.” Jared fiddled with his fork. “Was.”

“Not going back?” And Jensen actually looked interested, damn him.

A deep twinge of guilt and regret tightened Jared’s chest. “Doesn’t matter. I probably would have changed it anyway.” School had no place in this fanciful room, across a table from Jensen Ackles, the smell of the club still on Jared’s skin. 

But he wasn’t thinking about that tonight.

“Where’d you catch the bug?” Jensen asked softly, like this was a real conversation between two people interested in each other. Interested in more than their mouth and ass. 

Jared huffed out a laugh. “My mom took me to see The Lion King Broadway.” He glanced up and Jensen was watching him, eyes leaf-green, a tiny furrow of concentration between his brows. His body was relaxed back in his chair, one wrist resting on the table, settled in like he was ready let Jared talk for hours. 

Jared swallowed down the pathetic little flutter that beat in his chest. “I was eleven. I thought it was the best thing ever.”

Somewhere between the Pad Khing and Ginger Duck, Jared forgot that conversation with Jensen wasn’t a normal thing. Apparently nightclub-owning criminals could attend Broadway too. They also watched popular movies. Who knew. 

Jared wasn’t wearing a watch, but it felt late when they finally left, their table still covered in untouched food. 

“I should take it out of you in trade,” Jensen said when he’d paid and was shrugging into his coat. 

Three glasses of wine in, warm and loose, that flutter still in his chest, Jared didn’t say anything, just grinned at Jensen, brushing up against him as he passed through the door. 

It had stopped snowing and the sidewalk was thick with tracks. Cold pinched at exposed skin and Jared curled his hands into his pockets, turning back towards Jensen.

Jensen was watching him with a look Jared had come to associate with immediate grabbing and fucking, but now Jensen didn’t move, just said: “I’m going to take you home and – ”

The roar of an engine and Jensen’s abrupt break in speech registered at the same time. Over the usual noise of traffic, a big vehicle going way too fast. 

Jensen lunged at Jared. Impact, and then he was falling. 

Glass shattered. Weight lay across his hip and back.

Fuck! Fuck, that was gunfire!

Jared was face down on the snowy sidewalk, hands just starting to ache and sting. He didn’t have time to make sense of anything more before a car shot up over the curb, close enough to throw snow into his face, sharp as sand, when it braked. Then hands were hauling him up, shoving him towards the car and its open rear door.

There was the heavy impact of bullets on metal, the staccato shots blanking out everything else, and Jared was tumbling forward onto the leather seat. The window just above his head was an explosion of snowy glass around two bullet prints. 

The car lunged forward and Jared rolled to the floor, ears ringing. 

A hand clamped down on the back of his neck, keeping him on the floorboards, and over his head Jensen was talking, voice calm and controlled. 

Jared breathed in the damp air and car exhaust, normal sounds filtering in, a background of traffic and car engine. Lights slid past the windows, fractured by the damaged pane. Something warm and wet was pooling under his left palm. 

“Jensen,” he said.

The weight came off his neck and Jensen was pulling him up onto the seat. Jared looked down at his hands, smeared red. 

“Fuck,” Jensen hissed. He caught Jared’s wrist, carefully straightening his arm, looking for the source. 

Just below Jared’s elbow, the sleeve of his coat was gaping, the skin underneath dark with blood. _Jesus Christ, I’ve been shot,_ Jared thought, and his head suddenly felt too light.

“Jared,” Jensen said sharply. Then, “Get me something for this.” 

Jared figured Jensen wasn’t talking to him, and kept his eyes on the red seeping through the fingers Jensen had clamped over Jared’s arm. 

Mark passed something back and Jensen folded it into a pad, pressed it to Jared’s arm. “Hold that,” he said, pulling Jared’s other hand up, placing it on the cloth. Jared now saw it was actually a cotton t-shirt, which, okay. Jensen’s guys really would do anything for him, give him the shirt right off their backs.

Jared felt a hysterical giggle building in his throat.

“You’re fine, it just nicked you,” Jensen said, and Jared looked up. Two short cuts across Jensen’s cheekbone ran red lines down his jaw, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked calm and carefree. 

Jared had his mouth open, words in a crush to get out, but Jensen turned away. “Pull over somewhere,” he said to O’Connell. 

“Boss, do you want me to make some calls?” Mark said.

“No.” Jensen’s voice was soft, almost distracted. “I already know who’s behind this.”

The car turned and slowed. As soon as it came to a stop, Jensen was out, slamming the door behind him. There was a moment of heavy silence, where Mark looked at O’Connell, and O’Connell stared straight ahead through the windshield. Then Mark gave a dismissive snort, and threw open his door, following Jensen outside.

Jared slid across the seat to get a look through the undamaged window. They were stopped at the curb on a tree-lined street, wet snow shining in the lights that threw shadows under the fire escapes on the buildings. Mark just outside, back to the car. A dozen feet away, illuminated to perfect visibility, Jensen was talking on his phone. His stance was casual, head at a slight angle, one hand in his coat pocket. The fingers the held the phone were red with Jared’s blood. 

Jared swallowed down a prickling fear that wanted Jensen to step away from the light, get back in the car and start driving. Somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was away. Jared didn’t have to watch the news to know violence happened daily on the streets, but knowing it happened and having it happen to you really couldn’t be compared. Till now the most violent thing he’d witnessed was a girl getting punched in the face by a thief who made off with her Chanel bag outside the metro.

Jared’s arm throbbed, and twice he almost broke the silence to ask O’Connell what was going on, what would happen next. It seemed forever before Jensen’s shadow fell across the car, and the door opened. 

Jensen leaned down, one hand braced against the car. “C’mon.”

Jared scrambled across the seat, one hand still holding the improvised dressing against his arm.

Jensen looked him over, face impassive. “Mark’s going to take you home, stay with you.”

“Why?” Jared’s mouth immediately demanded. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” Jensen walked around the front of the car, paused with the passenger door open. “He doesn’t leave the apartment for anything,” Jensen said to Mark, and then he was inside, and the car was pulling away from the curb.

Jared stood under the crooked shadows of bare trees and watched the tail lights disappear. If he thought he’d been confused and afraid before, watching Jensen leave had him two seconds from crying like a little girl.

“What, we’re supposed to walk?” he said, and his voice trembled alarmingly. 

Mark gave him a look that slide right off, focused somewhere to the left. “Called a cab.”

Jared curled his throbbing arm across his stomach and watched his breath puff in the cold air. And if one or two tears burnt their way down his face, well, it’s not like the asshole he was with would even look at him to notice. 

The cab was cold and smelt of smoke and rancid shoes. When they got upstairs, Jared dropped his key twice before getting the door open, and Mark stood behind him and like he was a hall decoration. 

Jared left the door open behind him and headed straight for the bathroom. He peeled off the t-shirt compress. The blood had mostly stopped. He tossed the t-shirt in the trash, and slowly worked his coat off. By the time he was done his whole arm was throbbing. He swallowed the nauseous salvia pooling in his mouth, turned his arm to the light, tried to decide if it needed stitches. Maybe, probably. Fuck, it really hurt. He should cover it first, then get something for the pain.

Jared stood under the dim sink light and tried to think what he could use to dress the wound. After a few minuets he walked back out into his kitchen. Mark was sitting on Jared’s consignment shop sofa, looking bored. 

“I need stuff for this,” Jared said.

Mark’s eye flickered over him and away. 

“So either you go get it, or I do.”

“Use something here,” Mark said. 

Standing there in pain, having to ask permission like a child . . . well, fuck that “Didn’t I just say I needed shit for this? That means I don’t have anything! I don’t give a fuck what Jensen’s hangup is, he doesn’t tell me what to do, he isn’t even my fucking boss anymore!” Jared’s voice had risen to a shout and he stopped and gulped in air. He was so pissed off, he was shaking. Maybe he was in shock.

“I get some proper medical supplies in the next ten minutes, or I’m calling a fucking ambulance.”

Mark tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. He sighed and dug his phone from his pocket. He fiddled with it for a moment, scrolling and clicking, then dialed a number. From the one-sided conversation Jared could hear, it sounded like he was ordering a whole hospitals-worth of medical supplies.

After giving the person on the other end of the phone Jared’s address, he hung up. 

“Happy?” Mark said, looking straight at Jared for the first time ever. “Did you want princess-Barbie-fucking-pony band-aids or something? You can sit your pissy bitch-ass down now.”

“I’ve got plenty of Barbie-what-the-fuck-ever band-aids, but thanks.” Jared stepped around the couch into the kitchen, hunting for paper towels to stop the blood that was running down his arm again. “ You did good, Marky. Better get here in ten minutes, though.”

It was closer to twenty, but Jared wasn’t going to say anything. He washed out the wound and dressed it to stay wet. He’d check in at a clinic for stitches tomorrow.

He closed his bedroom door behind him, crawled under the covers. It was cold, and he was still shaking and a little dizzy. It was sometime in the a.m. hours already but Jared was sure he wouldn't sleep. 

The next thing he was aware of was light across his face and he squinted up at the silhouette blacked out against his open bedroom door.

“Jensen?” he croaked. There was no window in the room, and he had no idea what time it was. “What are you doing here?”

Jensen didn’t answer for a moment, and Jared added, “What happened last night? Why was Mark here?” Is he still here?

“You’re not in any danger,” Jensen said. 

Which meant . . . “Did you kill them?”

Jensen laughed, turned so the light cut across his face. “I didn’t kill anyone.” He reached into his jacket, took out his cigarette case. 

Don’t smoke in here, it’s non-smoking, Jared wanted to say. Should have said. But the scent of Jensen’s cigarette’s would linger long after he had gone, and god help him, Jared wanted that. 

“So who was it?” he asked, watching the flare of Jensen’s lighter. 

Again, there was a long pause, but this time Jared stayed silent as well. Jensen turned and sat on the foot of the bed, back to Jared. 

“I went to see my boss. He’s taking care of it.”

Jensen’s boss?

“Why?” Jared asked. There was a certain intimacy in the close dark that encouraged him.

Jensen made a noise of derision. “It’s his kid, not something I can take care of. I’d gladly slit the fucker’s throat, but then his old man would probably slit mine, just on principle. Family takes care of family matters.”

Jared decided he was going with the assumption Jensen was talking about the McNulty family. “You’re boss’s kid was trying to kill you?”

“Stupid little fucker thinks I’m crowding him out.” Jensen tilted his head back, rolled his neck. “Too dumb to know he was never in line for the thrown anyway. He can’t take a piss without someone to hold his dick for him, so it figures he’d fuck up something like this.”

“Luckily for you,” Jared said. _And me._

Jensen shrugged. “Guess so.”

“So are you? Crowding him out?”

Jensen laughed. “Doesn’t work that way.”

Jared studied the back of Jensen’s neck, the skin exposed between his collar and cropped hair. “How does it work? How do you join a crime family? Just, you know for future reference.”

Jensen stood up, the bed bouncing gently with his departing weight. “We playing twenty questions?” 

“Maybe,” Jared said, scooting up against his pillows. Dressed down to just his boxers, lying on his back, he was feeling a little disadvantaged. 

Jensen walked to the stool that served as Jared’s night stand, dropped his cigarette into a mug half full of yesterday’s coffee. He shrugged out of his jacket and started on the buttons of his shirt. 

Jared swallowed, watched the progress. 

“Meeting one of them in prison works pretty well.” Jensen tossed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. He swung a leg over to straddle Jared’s hips, planting his hands on either side of Jared’s head. 

Jared stared up at Jensen’s shiny-wet lips, mouth watering for a taste of smoke. 

“Works even better if they’re gay with a taste for pretty,” Jensen said, voice smokey. 

Jared’s cock twitched - because, fuck, that was sexy - but he stayed still, didn’t touch, liking the feeling of lying there under Jensen, waiting for whatever he was going to get. “So you fucked your way into the McNulty family?” he said. Hoped he wasn’t asking too much, getting to close to something Jensen didn’t want to talk about.

Jensen smirked. “Literally. The younger, gayer, crazier McNulty brother. Guy’s like a goddamn robot assassin, but you get him the bedroom, he’s a total bottom.” Jensen stroked lazy circles over Jared’s stomach. “Just rolls over and fucking begs for it.”

Jared heard himself whimper, didn’t get time to worry about it because Jensen was kissing him, tasting of smoke and maybe a hint of blood.

“God, yes,” Jared gasped against Jensen’s mouth, forgetting to hold still as he wrapped his legs around Jensen’s waist, thrusting up for some friction. 

Jensen grabbed his hips, pinning him to the mattress. “Beg,” he whispered against Jared’s skin.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

It was afternoon when Jared woke alone in bed and stumbled his way through an empty apartment. His arm was throbbing and his ass was sore, but the good kind, the kind of you stretched against to just to feel.

There was a paper pharmacy bag in the kitchen counter with a note stuck to it that read, _TAKE THESE._ Next to it was an envelope, and written across the front, _Call her, she’s working for you._

“What?” Jared mumbled. He wasn’t caffeinated enough for this. He sighed and fumbled the bag open. 

Antibiotics, with his name on them, and prescription painkiller, also with his name. “That’s creepy,” Jared said aloud. 

The envelope, unsealed, had a card for a Mary Tiffton, employment agent.

Fucking Jensen and his obsessive need for control. Couldn’t forget it even after last night. Probably just took Jared out too butter him up and make him do what Jensen wanted . . .

Jared groaned. Actually, that’s probably exactly why he did it. And there Jared was, getting all stupid and excited like a lovesick teenager. 

“I’m an idiot,” Jared said, and walked back to his bedroom to get dressed. 

He bundled up till he looked like a stuffed seal, and very carefully didn’t think about Jensen as he walked to the subway, rode to the clinic, had nine stitches put in his arm, and treated himself to a coffee on the way back. 

He held off calling Ms. Tiffton for a whole seven hours. It was pointless, because he knew he was going to cave in the end and do exactly what Jensen wanted, but some petty part of him needed to make the gesture. The truth was, working at a night club sucked, and not in the sexy way. Spiting Jensen wasn’t worth it.


	5. High to Low

On Sunday, Jared’s mom gave him the news his dad had joined WITSEC. 

“He went into the program right out of the prison hospital, so there’s no chance of him being hurt again. It should help too, when he gets a parole hearing.” The relief in her voice was unmistakable.

“That’s awesome,” Jared said, and really meant it. Somewhere along the line he’d forgiven his father for being a fuck up. Maybe because he had a greater basis for comparison, now. Apparently whoring yourself out to domineering criminal-types was good family therapy. 

It also had Jared fighting what might have been disappointment. Not disappointment that his dad was safe; thinking of the protection plan long term had been enough to send Jared into a mini panic attack. Having someone’s life hanging in the balance of your actions felt like walking around with a bomb strapped under your jacket. His mom’s news left Jared a little weak in the knees with relief. But with his dad safe, there was no need for protection. And with no need for protection, there was no reason to keep fucking Jensen.

It was probably just that he’d gotten used to regular sex and his dick didn’t want to give that up. That was natural, right? Nothing weird like actual ly missing Jensen. Because Jensen was an asshole who used Jared like a weekly subscription.

All afternoon Jared poked at the feeling, trying to reconcile himself with it. Then Monday rolled around and he was immediately distracted by the fact that he was currently jobless. If things were ending with Jensen, Jared was going to take every advantage of the relationship while he still could. It wasn’t everyday someone like him had someone like Ms. Tiffton working to get them employed, and Jared had dared to be selective. He didn’t want to spend the indeterminable future working another job like The Jade Room. He wanted something that he could be proud to put on his résumé.

The same evening Mary Tiffton emailed Jared with info on two different jobs that sounded too good to be true, Terri texted him: 

_first weekend off in forever, come out with me!  
I promise there will be sexy boys and girls_

Jared sighed and tried to frown away a smile. He hadn’t expected to make friends at the club, and now that he was leaving, he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep those connections. But not everyone goes out and buys you shit when you’re pathetic and sick. Jared figured he owed Terri at least one night. 

He sent a text, _there better be._ At the very least, it would keep him from stressing about job applications. 

Terri brought two other friends with her, a tall girl with a nose ring, and a guy wearing skintight leather leggings. They all chatted over dinner and drinks at a pub, because it was barely eight o’clock, and then Terri announced a night of club-hopping. 

Their third stop was a place Terri knew the doorman and they were let right in. There was a revolving dance floor, packed with bodies, and both of Terri’s friends headed straight for it. Jared offered to get drinks. 

“Not dancing?” Terri shouted over the music. 

“Taking a break from having my junk groped,” Jared said, and Terri laughed, immediately reaching for his crotch. He caught her hand and swung her around towards the dance floor. 

“Go for it,” he said, and she left, grinning. 

Halfway through a _Adios Motherfucker_ (god, worst drink ever) Jared really needed some air that wasn’t heavy with sweat and perfume, but he was acting as drink watcher. He was about to toss them and go anyway when Cara detached herself from the dancers. She was breathing fast, blonde hair tangled, skin glowing, club lights catching on the metal of her nose ring. Jared had noticed, just like he noticed Mitch’s leather-covered ass, but the second he did, he was comparing it to another ass, thinking of a different gold ring. He was pretty sure Jensen had permanently fucked him up. 

“You gonna get out there?” Cara asked, pink tongue swiping over her lower lip.

Jared tilted his head toward the exit. “After I get some air. You watching these?” He waved a hand over the drinks.

“Yeah, I got it,” Cara said, already scanning the room again. 

Jared wove his way through the crowd towards an exit. He felt a little queasy. Too many different drinks in too short a time on his un accustomed stomach. Outside in the cold night air, Jared took a few breaths of sharp, cold air and leaned against the wall. 

Someone moaned and Jared turned, even as he knew what he was going to see, already moving to go back inside. Light slanted through the alley, cutting across the bodies, one leaning, one kneeling, and Jared already had his hand on the door before his brain caught up with his movements.

Half a dozen yards down, Jensen leaned against the side of the building - coat, gloves, lit cigarette between his fingers. Sometime was kneeling between his spread legs, guy or girl, Jared couldn’t tell.. Jensen’s head was turned, eyes looking right at Jared. 

Jared knew he should go back in, find Terri and her friends, forget he’d even seen Jensen Ackles getting sucked off in an alley. But what he should do and what he did do had been undergoing a slow, painful divorcement ever since he first met Jensen, so he stayed. And watched. 

Watched Jensen take a slow drag on his cigarette, roll his hips up, one hand grabbing onto hair, the head half hidden by his open coat. Jared’s gaze darted between Jensen’s lips, parted and trickling smoke into the cold air, and his hands, pushing against whoever’s head it was, grinding it against his groin. 

And Jared wished it was him. Wanted to be the one on his knees in a wet alley, getting his mouth fucked. And that made no fucking sense, Jared didn’t even like giving head. The first time had pretty awful, and the next two times only marginally better, but right then, skin too hot in the cold air, dick painfully hard in his pants, Jared would have done literally anything as long as it involved Jensen.

Whoever is was that Jensen had his dick in was moaning and whimpering, but Jensen was silent, just the tick in his jaw and the flare of his nostrils showing he was even affected. Jared bit his tongue to stay silent and ground the heel of his hand into his erection. No way he was going to jerk off watching this like some voyeuristic loser. He almost lost it anyway, almost came in his pants when Jensen’s eyelids fluttered shut and he dropped his cigarette, bringing both hands down as he bucked once and came. 

“Fuck,” Jared heard himself whispering, involuntarily. He was breathing hard and shivering, more worked up than he’d ever been by just watching something. And it’s not like he could really even see with Jensen’s coat in the way. 

Jensen’s fuck of the night was cleaning him off, tucking him in, whatever was proper alley BJ protocol, and Jensen was watching Jared again. Jared was acutely aware of his angry hard-on, his hot skin, the fact he’d just stood and watched Jensen getting off, totally uninvited. 

He was about to go back in when whoever was kneeling between Jensen’s thighs stood up. And Jared still couldn’t tell if it was a pretty boy or a tall, lanky girl who murmured something to Jensen, then headed towards Jared and the door he stood in front of. They grinned at him as they passed into the club, lips red and swollen, tongue stud caught between white teeth.

 _Fuck you,_ Jared thought. _I’m the one he takes home._

And where the hell did that come from? Jensen was not his boyfriend. And Jared didn’t want him to be. Really. But maybe he kind of wished he had a tongue piercing too, so when he licked up and down Jensen’s dick it would _click click_ against the ring through Jensen’s pink cock head, and . . .

Jensen’s black Lincoln pulled up at curb, idling quietly, and Jared tried to launch a casual retreat. 

“Coming?” Jensen’s voice carried down the empty alley, and when Jared looked up, he tilted his head towards the car. 

Jared didn’t even have to think about it before he was moving. Jensen’s hand was on his back, unnecessary encouragement as Jared practically fell into the car, Jensen right behind him, pushing him back against soft leather, hands gripping Jared’s arms just too tight. Jensen’s thigh came between Jared’s legs, rubbing over his erection, and Jared whimpered, all his filters down.

“You like watching?” Jensen murmured against Jared’s hair. “Like seeing me fuck that kid’s mouth, all the way down into his throat?”

Jared gasped, his stomach muscles locking up hard. “Yes, yeah.” He grabbed at Jensen’s face, needing more. The kiss was harsh and messy till Jensen palmed Jared’s jaw, dug his fingers into Jared’s hair, holding and turning his head to control and deepen the kiss.

Jared moaned and ground his crotch against Jensen’s hip, licked and bit at his mouth. Every time he got to the edge, ready to shoot a load in his pants, Jensen pulled back, holding Jared away against the car seat, making him writhe in frustration, breathe and slow down.

“Jensen, Jensen, c’mon,” he whined. Didn’t even care. God, he needed this so bad.

“Not yet,” Jensen said, stroked a hand gently over Jared’s aching cock. “You’re gonna come with my dick in your ass.”

And that sounded pretty much perfect. Jared clawed at Jensen’s hips, trying to pull him closer. “Yes, yes now.”

Jensen laughed, low and raspy. “You want that? You’d take it right here with Conny and Dan listening in?”

One part of Jared’s mind groaned. Well, fuck. Douchebag Dan was here? The other part though, it shivered him all over, straight down to his cock, such a dirty, slutty lust heating under his skin. Yes, he’d take Jensen anywhere, anytime. There was no point in denying it any longer. He was 100% gone for Jensen Ackles.

Jensen mouthed at Jared’s jaw, licked his ear. “I’m gonna need a little longer than that, but next time I promise I will fuck you into this seat.”

By the time they pulled up in front of Jensen’s building, Jared could barely walk. They stumbled into the elevator and the second the doors closed, Jensen was pressing Jared back against the wall, heavy hands holding him in place. He pushed a thigh between Jared’s legs, encouraging him to ride it. 

Jared grabbed two handful of Jensen’s coat and panted against his neck. Movement caught his eye and he glanced up to lock stares with Dan, standing on the other side of the elevator car. For all the shit he talked, he actually looked more turned on than off, working on a smirk even though he had an obvious boner.

Jared hid his face against Jensen’s neck. He was about to come from rubbing off against his maybe-lover in an elevator while a mobster watched. Really hadn’t expected that when he started the night.

Oh, Terri. Should probably text her . . .

Jensen hauled him out of the elevator, pushed him through the door. Jared nearly tripped when Jensen yanked at his jeans, and then is was a fumbling struggle as they stumbled into the living room, fighting their way out of clothing. Jared had his coat off and his pants halfway down his ass when Jensen shoved him to floor on his knees. 

“Fuck, fuck. Lube,” Jensen panted behind him, fingers digging into Jared’s hips. 

“Just do it, c’mon,” Jared said. He might not have been thinking too clearly. Jensen’s fingers tangled in Jared’s hair, pulled his head back. Two fingers shoved into his mouth. 

“Suck.”

Jared whimpered and worked at Jensen’s fingers, his mouth filling with saliva till it was running down his chin. Jensen took his fingers back, his other hand still holding Jared’s head by the hair.

Jensen bit as Jared’s hip, the top if his ass, while he worked him open. He didn’t take enough time before he shoved Jared’s thighs as wide as his jean-trapped legs allowed, snugging his hips up against Jared’s ass, rubbing once, twice, before pulling back, lining up, pushing in. 

It hurt. Jared didn’t care. He gasped and pulled against Jensen’s hold on his hair, pushed back to take Jensen’s dick in even faster. He’d been on the edge for so long, it felt good even as it throbbed sharp pain up his spine. 

His hair was let go and Jensen’s hand landed heavy on his neck, pushing Jared’s face into the floor. Jared’s arms folding under him and he grunted half in pain, half in surprise as the new angle had Jensen’s balls slapping against his taint. He couldn’t move, caught by Jensen’s weight and his own clothing. He wiggled his hips, felt the hard length of Jensen’s cock, the pressure of his PA inside, and Jared moaned into the hardwood floor, cheek sliding on a puddle of his own spit.

“Fuck, yes,” Jensen growled, and started moving. 

An hour later, sprawled out in Jensen’s Egyptian cotton sheets, ass aching and skin stinging in a dozen different places from Jensen’s bite, Jared decided it was the best sex he’d ever had. The shower was hissing through the open bathroom door, and Jared imagined Jensen gleaming wet as he snuck a hand around and slipped two fingers past the swollen flesh of his asshole, feeling the sloppy mess Jensen’s come left inside. The trepidation, maybe shame, he expected to feel was steamrolled by that gorged satisfaction sex with Jensen always gave, only better this time. The tangible evidence, a piece of Jensen let behind, was affecting Jared in ways he never would have expected. Who knew getting his ass filled with spunk would be a turn on.

He buried his face in the bedding, breathing Jensen’s scent, let his mind drift. Somewhere between one thought and the next, he fell into sleep. He woke once during the night, sticky and sore, curled against Jensen’s side, moving with the slow rise and fall of his sleeping breaths. Jared lay there boneless and muzzy, everything soft and muted in blue shadows and city night sounds. His unguarded mind murmured, _so this is what love feels like. Love. Love. I’m in love._

Jared lay still and breathed. He mapped every inch of too-hot skin where he pressed against Jensen’s bare body and knew he’d never been happier. Of all the stupid things to do, he’d fallen in love with Jensen Ackles. 

The next morning Jared had five texts from Terri: three questioning, two angry and worried, the last telling him he better be somewhere having the best sex of his life, because the police wouldn’t consider him a missing person until 48 hours had passed.

Jared sat down on the bed, still itchy and naked, and immediately replied, _best ever._ Then, _did you really call the police?_ He followed it up with a, _sorry. meant to text you last night. was kind of busy tho ; )_

Terri didn’t reply in the three minutes it took Jared to brush his teeth and find a pair of Jensen’s pants to pull on. His own clothes were god knew where. A long, hot shower was in his near future, but it could wait. He left his phone on the bedroom table and made his way downstairs. 

For all the late nights and three a.m. fucks, Jared had never slept at Jensen’s. When they were done, Jensen left, usually for a shower, and someone was always there to drive Jared home. After all the cold, uncomfortable endings, O’Connell shaking him awake outside his apartment building when he fell asleep in the back seat of the car, this was good. Better than good. Jared was no relationship expert, but he figured it had to mean something, right? Progress. Whatever is was they were progressing towards.

Jared found Jensen in the study, just off the living room. The door was ajar, giving Jared a good view of Jensen’s back, shirt fabric pulled tight over the curve of his shoulders and arms as he braced against the desk, learning over what might have been maps or blueprints, spread across the table. There was a guy standing opposite, not anyone Jared knew, but that was pretty common. There always seemed to be someone hanging around Jensen, in the peripheral. The guy had letters tattooed over his fingers, long hair slicked back into a ponytail, and oddly, neon converse on his feet. He was eating a white powdered donut and slurping from a coffee mug as he nodded along with whatever Jensen was saying. 

Jared had a split-second image of life as Jensen’s actual lover ( boyfriend, husband. But no, fuck no - he wasn’t going there.) and not just a callboy. Breakfast with mobsters and evenings at home interrupted by assassins delivering severed fingers. Did Jensen have assassins working for him? Maybe Jensen just did that himself.

It was funny till thought sunk too deep, and then it made him a little sick. What were the odds he was fucking a murderer? Too high. 

Jared turned to go back upstairs. He was three steps away when Jensen called, “Jared.” 

Jared stopped, glancing back. Jensen stood in the doorway, phone in one hand, his face impassive as he looked Jared over. The guy at the table watched from the background, pale blue eyes lingering on bare skin Jared now wished he’d covered up. The imprint of Jensen’s teeth stood out in angry red across his chest and neck. His stomach tightened. Bad way to start the morning after. He opened his mouth break the silence, but Jensen turned to donut-eating, converse-wearing guy.

“It’s pretty much what we figured, but let me tell the old man myself.” 

The guy nodded, licking powdered sugar off his fingers.

Jensen stepped out, pulled the door closed behind him. Jared didn’t move, and now they were close enough to feel body heat.

But instead of ogling Jared’s bare skin, or looking at Jared at all, Jensen’s gaze settled on something over Jared’s right shoulder. 

“Mark.”

Heavy, muffled footsteps padded up behind Jared. He turned and backed away to the side. 

“Get Jared his money and take him home,” Jensen said. 

Mark nodded. “Will do, boss.”

Jared’s frozen brain was still processing when Jensen turned and reentered the office, closing the door firmly behind him. 

“What . . .?”

Jared trailed after Mark, half embarrassed at the abrupt dismissal, half confused. Up the stairs, back into the master bedroom where Mark was already punching in the combination for a hidden wall safe.

“We don’t . . . it’s not for money, that’s not how we do it.” Jared sounded defensive even to himself. 

Mark clicked the safe shut and turned with neat stack of bills. Jared stared, mind turning and turning, hands still at his sides. Mark stepped forward, set the money on the tumbled sheets of the bed. “Get dressed, I’ll be downstairs.”

Jared couldn’t tell how much money was there, but it was a lot. A neat stack of bills where last night he’d slept against the warmth of Jensen’s skin, such a vulnerable and ordinary thing.

He stared long enough that Mark had left the room and Jared’s head was a little dizzy. Slowly, he turned away and hunted down his clothes. In the end he couldn’t find his boxers, just pulled his jeans up over his bare ass. Gingerly, he picked up the money and walked downstairs, straight to the study. His stomach was a mess of knots as he knocked, sharp and firm, not annoying but like he wouldn’t be ignored. Because seriously, what the fuck was this?

Jensen opened the door, brows drawn down in a frown that clearly said pissed.

Jared curled around his own faint anger, flipping the packet of cash in his hand, said, “I didn’t ask for money.” 

Jensen’s mouth curled. It was almost contemptuous. “And I didn’t ask if you wanted it. Take the damn money, Jared, and go home.” 

The door swung closed in Jared’s face. 

“Fuck you, too,” Jared said to the dark wood panel, throat tight.

By the time he made it down to the car he’s kicked his bruised emotions into a state of comatose. He had no reason to build expectations, he told himself. To Jensen he was just another body in a long string of hookers. The guy was obviously a sex addict with zero desire or capacity for an actual relationship. No one with an ounce of sense or self worth would start on with him, anyway. 

Downstairs, Mark was waiting. 

Jared didn’t say a word on the drive back to his apartment. His phone buzzed twice with texts from Terri but he ignored them.

He stumbled inside his cold dark apartment, locked the door and started stripping of clothes as he headed for the shower. He ran the water as hot as he could stand it, and stayed till it turned lukewarm, leaning against the tile wall. 

“I’m in a fucking rom com,” Jared said, voice loud in the confined space. “And I think I’m the girl.”

It was kind of funny, but Jared’s chest felt like there was a car sitting on it. Not the least bit funny. He didn’t have the glimmering of a chance with Jensen Ackles, and the realization (the realization that he _wanted_ a chance at something more) was opening a deep hole in his stomach. 

He swallowed it down, (swallowed it down, swallowed it down), turned off the shower, dried and dressed. 

He took the cash from his coat pocket and shoved it in his wallet. He collected his keys, but left his phone. 

Jared bought two money orders at the post office, slid them into a mailer envelope, bought that too. His hand shook as he addressed it, tracing the pen twice over his mom’s first name. 

On his way home he bought a bottle of cheap whiskey. Could you have a break up when there had never actually been a relationship? The disillusionment of an infatuation. Going cold turkey on an addiction. 

Whatever it was, he should do it properly. Get drunk. Get over it. 

Right. 

In the end, Jared drank just enough to get stupid and teary, then pulled out his laptop and went through his emails, re-wrote his resume, all the while wiping salty snot all over his sleeve cuffs and cursing Jensen in hissed breaths without ever actually saying his name. 

Fuck him, Jared was too young to wreck his life on the rocks of a relationships that never was.


	6. The Quiet

_**Two Months Later**  
(give or take a day)_

Jared wouldn’t have noticed him if it hadn’t been a Sunday, late in the evening shift. There were just a few other people in the shop, mostly young hipster types, and the new guy stood out, older than the rest, reading a paperback rather than a tablet or laptop. He was turning pages, but Jared was pretty sure it was just for show, because the guy spent most of his time watching Jared work.

Jared’s had his share of shop patrons come on to him since he started working at The Daily Grind two months ago, but it was usually just numbers on napkins, or a short exchange that didn’t go anywhere. Jared had the morning shift three days a week, which was endless chaos. If he had served paperback-guy before, he sure didn’t remember him.

Jared cleared a table and glanced at the clock. 8:40. Another hour and he could head home. 

Jared left the dishes in the sink and walked back to the storeroom, just to be out of sight. He leaned against the wall, sighing out a deep breath. It felt like he hadn’t had a full nights sleep in months. If he wasn’t working a shift at the shop, he was at Clermont middle school, instilling in young minds and hearts the love of theater and dance. 

Or, wrangling fifty energetic adolescents with severely limited attention spans. 

It was a temporary job, an assisting position, and the pay was practically nothing. But it was the first job Jared had ever worked that meant something more than a pay check. For twelve months Jared would be one of two assistants to the teacher in an after-school program for theater and dance. Half a degree he promised he would be finishing, three years working at summer drama camps, and no mention whatsoever of his time at The Jade Room had landed Jared the job. 

But the late night commutes and 5 a.m. shifts at the coffee shop to make ends meet were getting to him.

“Go home,” Jared whispered to the patrons he could still hear coughing and rustling out in the front room. “You’re all just sitting the fuck around with half-empty cups.”

The bell over the shop door jangled and Jared groaned, pushing away from the storeroom wall to return to the counter. 

A lady with white-streaked hair and a slender, youthful frame already had her wallet out as she approached the counter. 

“Still serving?” 

Over her shoulder, paperback guy glanced up, catching Jared’s eye. Jared looked away, worked on a smile. “Till nine-thirty. What can I get you?”

“Double shot caramel latte.”

Jared started on the order, feeling the guy’s gaze heavy on his back. 

Three orders and forty minutes later, Jared was wiping down everything in sight, waiting till he could turn off the lights and lock up. Across the empty shop, paperback guy got up and carried his empty cup over to the counter. He set it down with a chagrined smile. 

“Sorry, you probably hate it when people do this,” he said.

 _No kidding,_ Jared thought. _So maybe don’t fucking do it._

He smiled as he retrieved the cup. “It’s no problem. I’d just have turned the lights off on you.”

Paperback guy laughed, glancing down, then back up at Jared. He was three inches shorter, at least, his eyes a dark brown, lashes thick and black. 

“I’m Trevor, “ he said, offering a handshake. 

_And here we go._ Jared took his hand. “Jared. I should probably get this washed up.” He gestured with the cup. 

“Oh, right,” Trevor said. 

Jared nodded and turned, just as Trevor said, “Do you think you’d want to go out some time?”

If he was being perfectly honest, Jared never really liked dating. At least not till he met Jensen. But that didn’t count, because they didn’t date. They never dated. Fuck, fuck! It was over two months ago, why couldn’t he stop thinking about the bastard?

If Jared didn’t care about dating before, he really, really didn’t now. He was tired and cranky, he had the opening shift tomorrow, and he just wanted to go home and sleep. 

“Um, look . . .”

“Sorry, that was probably really awkward. I just figured I should grab the opportunity.” Trevor shoved his hands onto his jean pockets. “Meeting someone in a coffee shop is – ”

Jared’s brain finally found usable words. “No, it’s fine, I just don’t date.” Okay, half usable, half idiot. 

Trevor raised his eyebrows. 

“Not right now,” Jared said, blinking against a sudden wave of dizziness. Skipping dinner was a bad idea. “I’m really busy, you know?”

“Oh, sure, I get that,” Trevor agreed. 

“So thanks, but . . .” Jared lost track of the sentence. The cup slipped from his fingers, bursting in a spray of porcelain across the floor.

_Passing out. Not good. Should try and fall towards . . ._

Someone was slapping his face. Jared tried to bat the hand away, but nothing was getting through. His whole body felt thick and numb. 

“Jared. Jared!”

Someone was talking to him. Trevor, right. 

“Are you a diabetic? Hey, come on, deep breaths. Do we need to call an ambulance?”

Ambulance rides were very expensive. So were ER visits. No way was he letting that happen. Jared forced his eyes open, sucked in a lungful of coffee-scented air. His gaze lazily focused on Trevor’s worried face. The guy’s dark hair had fallen over his furrowed brow. Objectively speaking, he was kind of hot. Maybe not dateable, but probably fuckable. In an abstract way.

“Not ‘betic,” Jared mumbled. “Tired.”

Trevor gave a worried laugh. “You just toppled, man. Scared the shit out of me.”

Jared tried moving again, with more success, and Trevor shifted to accommodate him. Jared realized he was lying on the floor behind the counter with his head and shoulders in Trevor’s lap. 

“Sorry,” he offered, trying to sit up and move away. 

“Hey, hey, take it easy. You probably have low blood sugar. Lets get you something to drink.”

Jared ended up sitting, leaning against the wall, while Trevor brought him a bottle of _Naked_ juice and a scone. 

“You really shouldn’t skip meals,” he said. 

“Who said I skipped?” Jared mumbled, pushing his embarrassment into annoyance.

Trevor glanced up and down Jared’s sprawled body. “Then you really need to eat more.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jared said before he could stop himself, but Trevor just laughed. 

“We should get you home.”

And just like that, Jared found himself being helped through the closing of the shop and then into some strange guy’s car. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you slipped me something just so you’d have an excuse to drive me home.”

Trevor looked over at him, forehead crinkled. “Well, that’s always a possibility.”

“You’re a vampire, aren’t you.”

“Caught me. Damn, I was so close to a nice, bloody meal.”

“Ugh,” Jared groaned, a twist in his stomach, nausea flooding his throat. He wasn’t usually bothered by blood, not even his own. He even got shot and then had to patch himself up and it didn’t bother him, not even when Jensen didn’t take him to the hospital because they were too busy fucking. 

The unexpected memory of being fucked by Jensen, a lust warm in Jared’s belly, and the bitter nausea already burning in his stomach was the weirdest sensation Jared had ever felt. And apparently, more than he could handle. 

“I’m gonna puke,” he said, very clearly, and then lurched forward to vomit all over his own feet. 

And the footwell of Trevor’s car. 

Could the night get any worse.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

It was the buzzing that finally woke him, and it wasn’t the first time he had heard it. The sound had worked its way into his dreams – sexy, bizarre and now just confusing.

Jared groaned, his own voice too loud and close. A headache lurked, waiting to flare up the moment he moved. The buzzing stopped. Thank god. 

And then started up again immediately. What that fuck?

Buzzing. Phone. What day was it?

Jared swore and launched himself out of bed. Or tried. It felt like he was working off a hangover while fighting a flu. Sore, weak and so fucking tired. 

Jared caught himself against he wall and grabbed his phone. His stomach dropped when he saw the number. He was late for work. 

“Jared? Are you planning on coming in today?” Chet, the morning manager at The Daily Grind, sounded pissed. By the background noise, Jared guessed they were totally swamped.

“Yeah, yes, I’m coming in. I’m sorry, I just . . . I’ll be there as soon as possible.” 

He hung up on Chet’s passive aggressive response and sagged against the wall. Chet was a nice guy, honestly, but Jared really just wanted to tell him to fuck off, and then crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. Maybe he had mononucleosis. Exhaustion, fainting . . .

“Ohmygod.” Jared pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if the black and white sparks could blank out his memory of last night. Trevor, Jared passing the fuck out, then _puking_ in Trevor’s car. Last night Jared had been too tired and upset to appreciate how truly horrible it had been, and now the embarrassment was bordering on physically painful. He’d actually let Trevor take him home, brush off Jared’s mumbled apologies, and then escort him to his apartment door. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Jared said to the empty room and the pounding music from the apartment below. 

It was a bad start to a bad day. In the end Jared was over an hour late for his shift. He messed up two orders, endured Chet’s many reprimands, and skipped lunch. By the time he got to Clermont, he was tired, cranky, hungry and oddly nauseated. Definitely not a state assuaged by hyperactive kids with shrill voices.

“You don’t look so good,” said Kandice, Jared’s fellow TA. 

“I’m okay. Just a little tired,” Jared lied.

Kandice let it go, and Jared powered though the afternoon and evening, reminding himself he wanted this job. He was planning a future, a life he didn’t have to be afraid or ashamed of, and that required working his ass of now to enjoy it all later. He waited till the last kid was gone and the equipment put away before excusing himself to the restroom to heave coffee and bile into the toilet. 

Jared rode the subway to his stop in a daze, trying not fall asleep on the dreadlocked guy blasting music over his headphones. After an interminable time Jared blinked at the grimy floor, so tired even the idea of brushing his teeth made him want to cry, and thought, _I really hope Jensen doesn’t call tonight, there’s no way I could stay awake for sex._

It took a few seconds for it to register, and Jared was suddenly pissed. Fucking Jensen and his fucking habit of creeping into Jared’s thoughts. Jared had never understood the breakup agonies his highschool friends claimed to endure. Both his girlfriends and kind-of boyfriend had drifted away as easily as they’d come. But Jared had never felt about them like he felt about Jensen.

And not for the first time, or even the fifth, Jared thought about taking out his phone, opening the text that had been saved for two months, and replying. Bad, bad idea. After one call from Mark, in Jensen’s stead, and one text, Jensen had left him alone. Jared had told Mark to fuck off and never call again, but it was the text that nearly broke him. It had come from a different number. Maybe Jensen’s personal number. Presumably from Jensen himself, the manipulative shithead. He knew what Jared wanted and just like the “dates” and the gifts and the kissing, when Jared started pulling away, Jensen gave just enough to reel Jared back in. 

Not this time. Not this fuckin –

“Man, you okay?” 

Jared looked up. Dreadlock guy had his headphones off, watching Jared with wide eyes. 

Jared let out a heavy breath, realizing he’d been acting out teeth-grinding rage right there on the subway. 

“Um, yeah, I’m just . . .” Jared’s eyes dropped to the Grateful Dead t-shirt the guy was wearing. “Nice shirt.” 

Dreadlocks guy’s eye lit up. “You a fan?” 

Apparently some people weren’t put off by Jared’s meltdown in progress. Dreadlocks guy left his headphones off and they discussed music till Jared’s stop. The world sucked a little less. 

Jared was practically sleepwalking to his apartment, somewhere in his fuzzy thoughts promising to psych himself up for the day tomorrow, because grieving was a process, or something. He was so out of it he did a double take when he saw the parked car with the human shape leaning against its door.

Jared frowned, embarrassment and caution working up through his exhaustion. “Trevor?” Maybe the guy was that pissed about Jared puking in his car, and showed up here to make it an issue. Jared really should have known better than to give away his address. 

Trevor grinned, sheepish. “This probably looks really creepy, but I wanted to see how you were doing after last night, and I don’t have your number. I went by the shop and they said –”

“Don’t work week nights,” Jared cut in, trying not to sway where he stood. Passing out on the same guy twice in two days was just cheap. 

“Yeah.” Trevor looked Jared up and down. “You – ”

“Look like crap, I know,” Jared sighed. 

“You probably want to get some sleep. I’m going to go.” Trevor straightened, then hesitated. “Probably a really bad time to ask, but, um . . . do you think I could get your number? I’d really like to call you.” Trevor’s mouth quirked. “Later. When you’re not half asleep.”

Jared stared. “I puked in your car and now you want to . . . ask me out?”

“Call you. But I’ll probably get around to asking you out sooner or later,” Trevor laughed. 

Jensen and phone numbers that were actually Jensen and not just one of his mob men and Trevor and JensenJesnsenJensen. Jared scrubbed a hand over his face, his aching eyes and dry skin. Trevor was blind or stupid if he was interested in Jared. But Jared had passed out on him and . . . yeah, he probably owed the guy. 

“Sure, yeah. Um . . .” Jared fumbled for his phone with clumsy fingers. By the time they’d exchanged numbers he was ready to curl up right there on the street. 

“Go sleep,” Trevor said, smiling like he thought Jared’s near comatose stake was cute. Jared waved a vague goodbye and stumbled away towards bed and unconsciousness. 

Trevor didn’t call for a week. If Jared had been more invested, he would have wondered whether it was because he was playing it cool, or had rethought the wisdom of hooking up with a guy prone to violent expulsions of his stomach contents. Because that really hadn’t let up. Two days mostly fine, then a morning heaving over the toilet while his co-workers picked up the slack and sent him looks of annoyance and sympathy. They probably though he had a drinking problem or a eating disorder. Jared was too miserable to care. 

When Trevor called, Jared was running between the coffee shop and school, too rushed to really give the conversation much attention.

“When are you free?”

“Never. I’m extremely expensive,” Jared said before he could think that one over.

Trevor laughed. “I bet you are,” he said, totally innocent of how true that was, and Jared’s skin heated, even from the other end of a phone call. 

“Um, I work all week, but I have Saturday and Sunday morning free.” _And I’d like to sleep, thank you._ How long did it take before you had worked off puking in someone’s car?

“Great. How about Sunday morning? We could get breakfast, and talk.”

Jared wanted to ask if this was a date, officially, but what was he going to say if Trevor said yes? Better to just let it be whatever, and if it came to it let Trevor know he was completely, irrevocably ruined for anyone and everyone because of a sex-addicted mob boss. 

Then, two days after Trevor called, Jared’s life changed forever. Jennifer, the barista sharing Saturday’s evening shift with Jared, looked at him with wide eyes as he returned from his latest visit to the bathroom, and said, “Oh my god. You’re pregnant, aren’t you.”

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Jared missed his non-date with Trevor. He had an excellent reason, though. His life was unraveling in slow motion, washing away in a wave of blood that would probably be his own.

Jared left work early Saturday night. Jennifer was glad to see him go. All he was doing was breaking cups and staring into thin air. Jared didn’t even try to camouflage his handful of home pregnancy test with other purchases. His mind kept pulling up that picture of Jensen’s fingers locked on Lorna’s hair, how the tendons stood out. Those same hands that had caressed Jared’s skin, rough and gentle, held his body up, so effortless. 

By the fifth test, Jared couldn’t deny it any longer. He was pregnant. He was carrying Jensen’s child. 

Jared’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold his phone as he looked up the nearest Planned Parenthood. If he got rid of this problem immediately, it could be like it never happened. There was no way Jensen would find out, not unless he had someone watching Jared . . . which actually sounded like something he might do. The guy was probably certifiable. If he found out he’d knocked up someone like Jared . . .

Jared took a deep breath. He was getting way too worked up. There was no reason to let it come to that. Jared could abort and it would be over in a few weeks. Problem solved. Messy death averted. Life back on track. 

He clicked through to the center’s business hours. Closed on Sundays, of course. He programmed the number into his phone anyway. 

“This is all your fault, you fucker,” Jared said aloud. His phone buzzed, jumping in his hand. Head full of thoughts of Jensen, Jared’s stomach lurched with ridiculous fear. He fumbled, then saw the number. Trevor. 

Jared sent the call to voicemail. The last thing anyone needed was to get tangled up with Jared, and by extension, Jensen Ackles. Because there was no use denying it. Jared’s life had been kicked in the teeth the second he looked up and saw Jensen, and it still hadn’t gotten up off the ground. 

Jared had the bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard before he realized. Pregnant, alcohol. It wasn’t like it mattered, he wasn’t going to be pregnant long, but he put the bottle back anyway. After that, the awareness of his condition was a weight Jared couldn’t shake. In the end he called in sick for his shift and spent the evening downloading and watching _Game of Thrones._ Escapist entertainment at its best.

Monday was miserable. Every phantom twinge in his stomach had Jared ready to bolt to the bathroom, the realization he was pregnant making his puking an incriminating act he needed to hide. He made an appointment at the closest Planned Parenthood center for Saturday morning, which was four more days than he wanted to wait, but he couldn’t ask for any more time off work short notice. 

Trevor called twice, but Jared didn’t call back. 

It was Thursday morning when Trevor showed up at the shop, lurking behind the counter traffic, hands in his pockets, watching Jared work. Twenty minutes and two burns later, Jared couldn’t ignore the hovering presence. 

“I need to take five,” Jared said, ducking out from behind the counter, weaving his way to the back door. Trevor followed him out. There was no privacy anywhere, except maybe the bathroom, but Jared wasn’t about to take it there. 

Before Trevor could say anything, Jared cut in, “I’m sorry I stood you up, and haven’t been answering your calls. That was shitty of me. There’s a –”

Trevor smiled, rueful but genuine. “I’m not mad. And I didn’t mean to bug you at work, I just thought something might be wrong.”

Jared sighed. God dammit, why did this guy have to turn out to be so decent. “No. Well . . . it’s just regular . . . crap.” _I’m pregnant with a crazy criminal-type’s baby. But it’s okay, I’m going to get rid of it before be finds out and kills me._

Great, now he was thinking of it as a baby?

“Jared?”

“Huh?”

“You’re spacing out.”

“Right.” Jared picked at a ragged cuticle. “Look, I was being honest when I said I didn’t have time for dating. I’m – ”

“Taken.”

“What?”

Trevor huffed out a breath. “I know the look. You’re still hung up on someone. Been there myself.”

Jared’s heart picked up, thumping in his throat. Was he really that transparent? “Actually, I really am busy.”

Trevor shrugged. “Okay, that too. I’m not angling for anything here.” He looked at Jared intently. “You okay? You’re pale.”

“Haven’t had time to get to the beach lately,” Jared shot back. “I better go before they come out here after me,” he added. 

Trevor just nodded and stepped back, giving Jared room to move around him. Jared paused at the back door, feeling he should add something more, cap off the conversation, maybe apologize for the weirdness, but Trevor just lifted one hand, mouth tilting into a smile. “You better go before your co-workers murder you.”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “See you around.” 

That evening one of the kids in the program decided to jump off a chair and sprain his knee and Jared’s evening drug out longer than usual with ice and calls to parents. The anxiety that had become a constant rock in his stomach was dulled by the heavy pull of fatigue. Besides all the other problems, being pregnant made Jared want to quit real life and just sleep. 

He could probably blame the tiredness for not noticing his key in the lock didn’t unlock anything, but by the time that registered, Jared’s eyes were already locked on the figure leaning against his kitchen counter. 

Forearms bared by rolled sleeves, hands cupped to the cigarette between his lips, Jensen flicked the silver lighter, took a long drag. He pulled the cigarette away and licked his lips, eyes turning to Jared. “You need a better lock. A deadbolt, at least.”

Jared’s bones turned to jelly. Jensen was standing in his cubicle of a kitchen and even with the fear churning in his stomach the only thing Jared could really process was _fuck, I can practically see his dick in those pants._

Jared was so screwed.


	7. It's Complicated

Even looking back years later, Jared couldn’t say if he fell for Jensen in spite of all his faults, or because of them. No one else saw Jensen like Jared did; afraid of him, angry at him, hating him, the emotions were only so sharp because he loved Jensen, wanted him. It was the same electric tingle in his gut, that tremble of fear and lust and defiance that wanted to push against something that wouldn’t give. Jared was aware of his addiction. He acknowledged it. He had no intention of quitting. 

“What are you doing here?”

Jensen’s gaze flicked over Jared, appraising. “That should be obvious.”

Jared froze. This was it. Jensen had found out about the pregnancy and he was here to drag Jared off into some filthy back alley abortion clinic, strap him down and have unlicensed doctors shove sharp things up inside him.

“Um, not really,” Jared tried for confused and tired. _Please don’t let it be what I think it is._

Jensen pulled in a mouthful of smoke, dropped his cigarette in the kitchen sink and straightened away from the counter. He crossed the tiny room in three steps. Jared flinched back involuntarily when Jensen’s hand came up, but his fingers combed into Jared hair before gripping, turning his head side to side as Jensen studied his face. This close, Jensen looked tired, stubble rough on his jaw, but there was a relaxed amusement in his expression.

“I leave you alone for a few months and you look half dead.” Jensen’s fingers massaged Jared’s scalp. “You need a caretaker.”

So it didn’t look like he knew about the fetus problem. The sharp point of fear in Jared’s gut eased, made way for other thought.

“You’re an asshole.” Jared twisted his face away and Jensen’s hand dropped to his neck, thumb settling in the hollow of Jared’s throat, pressing down lightly.

“I can be a lot of things.” Jensen’s thumb stroked over Jared Adam’s apple. His fingers tightened on the back of Jared’s neck as he leaned in, his teeth grazing Jared’s jaw before settling on his throat. “We probably have time for at least a few of them,” he said against Jared’s skin.

It wasn’t that Jared didn’t like it, but . . . 

Jared worked a hand up between their bodies, pushing against Jensen’s chest. “Wait, I –” 

Before Jared could so much as blink he was off balance, Jensen swinging him around, maneuvering Jared face down over the back of his shitty sofa. There was as hand on the back of Jared’s head, Jensen’s hips tight against Jared’s ass, his thigh between Jared’s legs. A warm curl of excitement started in Jared’s gut. Pinned down with Jensen on top of him was an instant jolt to his libido.

Jared gasped into the stale fabric of the couch, brain scrambling after his aborted thought. He could feel Jensen’s cock, half hard against his ass, and made an actual effort, twisting half upright before Jensen’s hand was forcing his head back down. Jared let him. All the determination to not let Jensen ruin his life, the promise he wasn’t going to get fucked for money, even the clinic appointment looming over his head – suddenly, none of it seemed of any importance.

Jensen’s hand smoothed down Jared’s back, thumb running under the waistband of his jeans, stroking over the top of his ass, and Jared shivered. “Missed this,” Jensen said softly, voice rough and deep. 

Jensen fucked him just the right side of rough, and when he hauled Jared off the back of the couch, down onto the floor, Jared still hadn’t come. 

“Goddammit, Jensen,” Jared gasped, sobbed. He was completely without stimulation, just on the edge but not quite there. Jensen was kneeling over him still fully dressed, just his shirt pulled out and his pants undone, heavy cock hanging free, gold metal piercing cloudy with come. It was the hottest thing Jared had ever seen and he was so close, so close – he reached to get himself off and Jensen’s hand caught his wrist, pulling his hand away. 

“Not like that.” And then Jensen’s mouth was sliding down over Jared’s aching dick and he nearly came up of the floor in surprise. Hot, wet suction, but more than that _Jensen’s mouth on him_ , and Jared came almost instantly, shouting and bucking his hips as the orgasm rolled through him.

When they finally ended up in Jared’s bed, both fully naked, Jared lay with his head on Jensen’s stomach, Jensen’s fingers unusually gentle in his hair. Jared drifted, languid and peaceful like only a good fucking could make him. All the shitty problems of regular life seemed faraway with Jensen’s warm, solid body right here.

“Guess you’re not a night person anymore,” Jensen’s voice broke through Jared’s dozing. 

Jared’s phone, his only clock, was wherever he’d dropped his pants, but it felt late, somewhere in the a.m. When he worked at The Jade Room, he’d still have hours to go in his shift. Now just the idea of doing anything more than lying still and breathing was insurmountable.

“I have to work at five weekdays,” he mumbled against Jensen’s abs. “Sucks.” He rolled his head over warm skin, sighing out a long, tired breathe. The new angle gave him the perfect view of Jensen’s groin, his soft cock lying against his thigh. Jared was too tired to even think about getting it up again, but it was a nice picture, the knobbed ends of Jensen’s PA just peeking out from the foreskin. Jared had never thought piercings were sexy, before. Now he had wet dreams about them.

Jensen’s fingers curled around the back of Jared’s neck. “Go to sleep,” and it was an order.

“You staying?” Jared asked, eyes already closing. 

There was a long space of silence as Jared felt his breathing slow into sleep, then Jensen said, “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jared woke in the dark, alone, but the sheets were warm, his skin still sticky-hot from a recent bed-mate. He lay blinking slow and sluggish till he heard the toilet flush and immediately had a flash of a wastebasket full of positive pregnancy tests. Most efficient wake-up call ever. Jared lay still as the water ran, racking his brains trying to remember if the tests in the wastebasket were visible. He was so busy angsting, he didn’t hear Jensen coming back till the bed dipped. Jared immediately rolled out the other side, heading for the bathroom. 

Once inside he shut the door and turned to scrutinize the trash bin. Receipts and candy wrappers. Not a pregnancy test in sight. Thank god.

Jared didn’t actually have to piss, but he flushed the toilet anyway. He washed his hands slowly, let the water run while his eyes traveled back to the waste basket. It didn’t look like it had been rearranged, like someone had gone through it, but it’s not like Jared would really know . . .

Jesus, he was going crazy. He turned of the water and stalked back to the bedroom. Jensen was sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning at Jared’s phone lying beside the bed.

“You missed a call.” Jensen’s voice was rough with sleep, heating up Jared’s skin before the words registered properly and his stomach swooped.

“Probably work,” he said, fumbling for his phone to check the time. 5:30.

“Shit.” 

He grabbed the nearest probably-clean t-shirt and dragged it on. “I’m late, they’re gong to kill me.” There wasn’t even time for a shower. Today was going to be spectacularly shitty.

“I’m taking you somewhere tonight. Be ready by eight,” Jensen said. He was still sitting on the bed, watching Jared dress like it was all a show just for him.

Jared pulled on a pair of jeans, grimacing at the gross, unwashed feel of his body. On second thought, he was already late. Three more minuets wouldn’t matter. “Can’t go,” he said, dropping the jeans to head for the bathroom.

Jensen reached out and caught Jared’s hip, turning him, stroking a thumb over the sharp curve of bone. “I’m taking you anyway,” he said, pulling Jared forward. 

“You know you don’t actually own me,” Jared said, even as he let Jensen draw him down to the bed. 

Jensen looked at him, eyes hooded, lashes shadowed dark over clear green. Jared stared back and stupidly thought, _our baby is going to be so fucking pretty._

“Have from the moment I first saw you.”

Jared’s protest was smothered when Jensen gripped his hair and pulled him into a kiss. Kissing with Jensen was amazing – when they actually did it, which wasn’t often. Everything in Jared wanted to screw his job and stay right here with Jensen’s lips on his. So tempting, so very tempting. 

“I have to get to work,” Jared mumbled and Jensen bit his lower lip, effectively shutting Jared up for another five minutes. 

In the end he was over two hours late. Chet warned him it was the last time. If it happened again, he was fired. Jared swallowed down the words, “I quit” because he really did need the job. He spent the rest of the day feeling shitty and incompetent, and more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life. 

Tomorrow was his appointment. Tonight he would see Jensen.

Jared wasn’t sure which one was setting off the storm of jumpy unease in his gut. Maybe both.

When Jared got home, Dan standing outside his apartment door. His hair was shorter, and his right arm was in a blue sling, but he had the same lazy smirk, and seeing him immediately made Jared pissed. It was like they’d gone back to the beginning and here was the same asshole sent to pick up Jensen’s whore. 

When Dan saw Jared he left off haunting the doorway and started towards him. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Jared shoved past the shorter man. “And I want a shower, so one of us is going to make a sacrifice, and it’s not me.”

Dan made a scoffing sound. “You don’t keep Mr. Ackles waiting.”

Jared swung open his apartment door, didn’t even try to keep Dan out when he followed him in. There was a time having his space invaded like that would have bothered Jared. The past year had been a crash course in not giving a fuck. “He’s your boss, not mine. I’ll go when I’m ready so either shut up or fuck off.”

Surprisingly, Dan shut up. Or at least didn’t follow Jared into the bathroom to keep talking. Jared turned the shower on as hot as it would go and stood under the water for a long time, wondering if he should just stay there, avoid Jensen. It was pretty obvious he was just playing nice to get what he wanted from Jared. Nothing had changed since the very first night they met. Last night had been a mistake, and the horribly part was, Jared knew he was going to make it again. But now, unrealistically, it felt like time was in limbo, the past few months a vote called for a recount. Jared was already pregnant with the man’s baby, how could he possibly get in any deeper?

And that was another problem. Somewhere in there, the fuck up, the pregnancy, the fetus had become a baby.

Dan was waiting, working hard on exuding boredom, when Jared returned, clothes changed, hair damp.

“Finally.”

Jared expected some kind of Dan-typical jab, but the guy didn’t say anything else, just lead the way out of the apartment and down to the street where he called for the car to be brought around. 

“What’d you do to your arm?” Jared asked as they waited.

“Fucked it up.”

“Really? I thought you just liked the look for fashion.” 

Dan’s answering sneer was half a smile. The car pulled up and he stepped forward to swing open the back door, waiting till Jared was seated inside before closing it.

“Where’re we going?” Jared asked, once they were back on the street. 

“Mr. Ackles’ marina.” 

Jared looked from Dan to O’Connell, silent behind the wheel of the car. “Seriously?” He was two seconds from adding, _is there a body in the trunk you need to dump?_ but thought better of it. It was only funny till it was true. 

Dan didn’t bother to carry the conversation any further, and Jared was left to stew in silence. Why the fuck would Jensen take him to a marina at this time of night? Jared couldn’t decide if he was paranoid or reasonably cautious. 

Though really, Jensen and everyone involved with him were almost certainly criminals. Paranoid was reasonably cautious.

Thirty minutes into the drive Jared’s stomach started growling and didn’t let up. The nausea came and went, but the increased hunger was constant, even when Jared didn’t _want_ to eat. Maybe he could convince O’Connell to stop for food. 

“We need to do some cleaning?” Dan said out of nowhere. He was talking to O’Connell. 

O’Connell shrugged. “No reason to.”

They weren’t trying to hide their conversation, though it didn’t really matter because it made no sense. Jared waited for clarification. 

“Text Mr. Ackles, just let him know.”

Not very clarifying. Jared settled back in his seat, trying to look like he wasn’t interested as Dan pulled out his phone and sent a text. 

“Hey, what are the chances we stop for some food?” Jared asked.

O’Connell looked at him in the rear mirror. “I’m sure Mr. Ackles has plans to feed you,” he said, perfectly polite. 

Dan snickered, and Jared felt his skin heat. Bastard. 

“So the marina, does Jensen own it?”

“Nah, he just parks his boat there.”

Jensen was taking him on a boat ride? Was that mafia slang for something else? Jared dug his fingernails into his thigh to stop the nervous bouncing. If Jensen knew about the baby, he’d just make Jared get rid of it. Murder seemed a little extreme. 

Jared’s stomach growled again, insistent, and he leaned back, closed his eyes. This couldn’t last, but just for tonight he’d pretend it would. 

He didn’t pay much attention to where they were going till he caught sight of the world trade center building. They turned off and Jared saw the water, glittering with city lights. O’Connell pulled up, engine still running, and Dan twisted around towards Jared. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you on board.”

Jared stepped out beside Dan, and immediately the car pulled away. Dan was already walking, and Jared trailed behind. Sleek, expansive-looking boats were docked in rows, and across the river the Jersey City skyline was lit up. Everything looked clean, bright and way too fucking expensive. It was the city Jared dreamed about before college. 

Dan, swaggering along ahead of Jared, didn’t seem impressed. He led Jared down a floating dock alongside a maybe mid-size yacht worth so many million. Yeah, who was Jared kidding, he didn’t know anything about boats. 

Dan climbed up and Jared followed him to a lounge area behind the cockpit, and conspicuously, no Jensen. 

“Where’s Jensen?”

Dan was already heading down the stairs - hatch, whatever. “Not here yet. He’s coming,” was all he said before disappearing. 

Jared sat down on the padded booth around the table, facing the hatch. The jumpy unease was back, now because he was without Jensen, rather than with him. _You shouldn’t love someone you don’t feel safe with,_ Jared told himself for the millionth time.

“Hey, Jared,” Rick’s odd warbling voice sounded. He hauled himself up out of the hatch, two beer bottles caught between his fingers. He had a little electric lamp in his other hand, which he set down on the table and clicked on. It was bright enough not to need it, but it made the boat feel less . . . unsettling. 

Rick popped the bottle caps with a opener and passed one to Jared. 

“Thanks.” Jared turned the bottle in his hand. Imperial Russian stout. 

Rick dropped into the booth opposite Jared. “Been a while, hasn’t it? You’re looking good.”

Jared grinned down at his bottle. Rick in the role of hostess was absurd, and yet oddly comforting. “Nice try. I look like I’m working sixty hours a week and not eating.” Which wasn’t true, Jared ate just about every chance he got. Didn’t seem to matter to his new parasite

Rick made a noise to show he was both impressed and sympathetic. “I’ll have Danny get something. No reason you can’t start now.”

He left his beer and lumbered back down the hatch before Jared could respond. Jared got up to dump his drink over the side, not thinking that tomorrow he might be making plans to get rid of _it_. He couldn’t think baby in that context. 

He leaned on the side of the boat, watching the lights on the water, trying to just let his thoughts float somewhere simple and safe. The boat rocked just as he head footsteps and then Jensen was right beside him, and Jared jumped, almost dropping the bottle.

“Jesus,” he hissed. 

Jensen grinned, slow and lazy. “I’d rather you just call me Jensen.”

“That’s lame.” Jared said, heart still thumping away in his chest. Jensen’s thumb brushed over his wrist before his hand settled on Jared’s hip. The fingers that worked up under Jared’s shirt were strangely cold. 

“Got started without me I see.” 

Jared glanced down at the empty bottle in his hand, shrugged. “You were late.”

Jensen’s fingers slid under the waistband of Jared’s jeans and yanked him forward. “Whose schedule are we on?” He gave Jared’s lower lip a sharp bite.

Jared flinched at the unexpected pain, but didn’t pull away, just let Jensen crowd him against the side of the boat and lick into his mouth, turning the kiss slow and deep. Sometimes Jensen pushed things past Jared’s love of rough sex into real discomfort. It was usually so brief he didn’t have time to object. The thought he might not anyway wasn’t something Jared liked thinking about.

Jensen pulled away, licking his lips, eyes locked on Jared’s mouth. 

“What?” Jared gasped. He was a little short on air and brain cells.

Rick’s approach was announced by thudding footsteps and Jensen turned. 

“Everything ready to go?” Rick asked, setting a plate of crescent-shaped pastries on the table. Jared’s mouth started watering just at the sight of food and he pulled away from Jensen, his stomach tightening in anticipation. Fucking food, it was a whole new level of obsession.

Jensen was talking to Rick, something vague and guarded about tide and family dinners, but Jared wasn’t really listening. Crisp exterior, rich, cheesy insides. God, had food always tasted this good?

“Slow down before you choke.”

Jensen was watching him, an amused smile pulling at his mouth. Rick was busy casting off lines or whatever you do with boats. Jared grabbed another cheese pastry. 

“Didn’t get dinner. Pretty sure that’s a requirement for . . .” _A date,_ Jared stopped himself from saying. 

“Hm,” Jensen said. Then, “Dan, beer.”

Jared turned towards the hatch, and Dan was there, watching them. His demeanor was tight, cautious, and when Jensen ordered, he jumped to. Jared watched Dan disappear down the stairs, itching to ask Jensen what had happened to the kid’s arm, but knowing better. Even innocent questions got weird reactions.

The boat rocked as Rick climbed his way back to the lounge and then the cockpit. 

“Ever been out on the bay?” Jensen caught Jared’s shoulder, turned him so he was leaning back against the table, bracketed by Jensen’s spread legs. 

“Um, no,” Jared said around a mouthful of food. He’d always planned to visit Ellis Island, maybe tour the Hudson. Be touristy, when he had more money and time in the summer. Obviously that hadn’t happened. 

“Good.” Jensen pulled Jared’s hand away from his mouth, leaned in for a kiss, chasing Jared’s lips when he twisted away. 

“Trying to eat here.” ‘Cause kissing with a mouth full of food? Gross.

Jensen laughed, a real, deep laugh. “I’m not as interesting as a fucking cheese roll?”

“Have you tasted these? Here.” Jared grabbed Jensen’s chin, holding his head still as Jared shoved the rest of the roll he was eating against Jensen’s lips. Teeth caught Jared’s fingers, warm wet tongue laving over them, sending an immediate jolt of arousal through his body. 

Jensen let go of Jared’s fingers and swallowed. Jared breathed and tried to ignore the heavy ache between his legs. When did every single fucking thing about this man become a turn on for him?

Jared was so absorbed in watching Jensen’s mouth he didn’t notice Dan till he was handing Jensen a bottle of beer. He couldn’t stop his startled flinch and Jensen, watching him, laughed again, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a drink. 

The rich cheese heavy in Jared’s stomach, the unfamiliar movement of the boat under his feet, too many hours since a good nights sleep all churned and heaved in his gut and the warm flush of arousal was turning to a cold sweat. He pushed against Jensen, moving away from the table towards to edge of boat. “I’m . . .”

Three steps and Jared was heaving over the side of the boat into the water. The smell of the river, the cold night air, his throat hot with bitter bile, Jared teetered and felt Jensen’s hands on his back. 

Mid-heave, it all struck, like seeing the future. He was destroying his life for this, but it wasn’t going to last. God, he was so fucking stupid. 

In the end, Jared spent most of the night nauseated and miserable. Jensen took him down into the stateroom and put him in bed, then sat beside him and smoked. It was strangely comforting, and when he fell asleep at some point, he was thinking, _just let this last a little bit longer._ In hindsight, it was a fairly telling wish. 

Jared missed his 11:00 a.m. appointment at the Planned Parenthood center. He didn’t reschedule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Cleaning' is the mafia term for taking measures to make sure you aren't being tailed.
> 
> If you want a little extra somthin' somthin', I have a [Tumblr tag](http://goldencyborg.tumblr.com/tagged/rlbivob) for this story (includes NSFW stuff).


	8. Run, Baby, Run

If he and Jensen were dating, the next few days would have been a making up period. Jared received a box of gourmet foods from Zaber’s, and there was organic coffee delivered to his door. Jensen showed up in person to take Jared to his pent house and Jared soaked it all in, enjoyed every second of the rough, possessive sex. 

He was right around fifteen weeks pregnant the night he looked in the mirror and noticed the curve of his belly, slight but unmistakable. Without time or money for a gym card, Jared had dropped muscle since his hiatus from school. He could suck his stomach into a concave; not anymore. The bump was there to stay. No way Jensen would miss it, and immediately panic tightened Jared’s throat. 

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, had avoided thinking about anything related to “baby”. Making a real decision was finality. Keep it or get rid of it, there was no going back. So he’d just done nothing, ignored the quiet truth: he and Jensen were going to end, sooner or later, baby or not. It was selfish, it was fucking crazy, but if he couldn’t have Jensen, Jared wanted something to remember him by. 

Now looking in the mirror, hand pressed to the alien curve of his stomach, Jared knew he’d been stupid. This wasn’t a fucking photo album or class ring, this was a person. He couldn’t have a baby; he could barely keep himself alive, never mind another person.

Jared left the bathroom, feeling sick in a way that had nothing to do with pregnancy. He was the worst kind of person, willing to use this for his own selfish needs, like the teenagers who got knocked up on purpose like it was a game. 

Jared lay down on the floor and covered his face, breathing deep. This had to end. Whatever he was going to do, he had to decide now. 

And maybe he needed to come to his senses to see it, but lying on the floor of his apartment, stuffy with summer heat, Jared realized, Jensen or not, he wasn’t going to abort. This baby had become a _someone_ , original and unique. Jared wanted to know the color of their eyes. It made his throat fill with tears, it fucking _terrified_ him, but it was a solid thing now, like conscience you can cheat but not ignore.

“I’m gonna have a kid,” Jared said aloud. 

And that meant he had to leave Jensen. In the warm shadowed room, he slowly pulled ideas out, tentatively fitting together a future that was unlike anything he’d ever considered. 

Of course, the second Jared decided to get his shit together (if deciding to become a single parent was getting shit together) everything fell apart. 

He went in for his Friday morning shift at The Daily Grind and Chet caught him the second he stepped behind the counter. 

“Jared, hey, I was about to call you.”

“What’s up?” Jared glanced at the wall clock. He wasn’t late, had made sure to be early to every shift.

“I meant to tell you earlier, but we’re going to have to let you go.”

“What? But I haven’t –” 

“Four times you’ve shown up extremely late, didn’t even call. That can’t happen. Okay? I’m sorry, but your shifts are filled now, it was a short notice hire.”

Excuses, explanations, promises crowded up in Jared’s mind – goddammit, he needed this job. He felt his breathing speed up, tried to stay calm and calculating when he really just wanted to scream profanities. He was working his ass off to do the right thing, and every single time something kicked him in the teeth. _Fuck you, Chet,_ Jared thought. _And fuck your new hire._

Jared slammed his apron down on the counter, drawing stares from the other barista.

“Thanks for being so fucking understanding,” he said, the words coming out choked. 

Out on the street it took about ten steps before Jared felt stupid, embarrassed by the display. There was a heaviness in his chest, a slow panic that was calculating the cost of rent and food and money for The Plan. He hadn’t been able to send anything to his mom in months. 

It wasn’t going to work. He needed money now. The rest of The Plan was still a little fuzzy, but money and limited time were two very obvious things. Getting the fuck away from Jensen was paramount. 

For half a second Jared considered going back to his mom and sisters, and then immediately knew he couldn’t. Jensen already knew too much about his family, and if he decided to look for Jared, they could be put in danger. The Plan was looking pretty fucking pathetic, gutted and unstable.

Tuesday, the week after Chet fired Jared, Kandice asked him about school, whether he was getting everything lined up for his return, and the sharp reminder felt like a blow to the stomach. The very last thing on Jared’s mind now was returning to school. Everything had changed so much since last year, since three months ago, and Jared had a moment of mind numbing doubt. He was doing everything people warned not to do. Pregnant college drop-out involved with shady people. Jared had tried to get things back on track once, and look how long that lasted. What Jared couldn’t do for himself – how could he do it for someone else, for a baby?

He skipped over Kandice’s casual questions, changed the subject.

When he left the school it was raining, a steady downpour that drenched Jared within seconds.  
He kept his head down, not even bothering to try and shield from the rain, just focusing on getting where he needed to go. The car parked at the curb ahead didn’t seem out of place till he was a few feet from it and the passenger door opened and someone stepped out. 

Jared’s pace slowed, then stopped. Shit. “Trevor.” Why did everything in Jared’s life have such exceptionably bad timing?

“Jared, I need to talk to you. You want to get in?” Trevor spoke loud enough to be heard over the rattle of the rain on the car roof. In the dim interior of the vehicle Jared caught the shape of someone in the driver’s seat.

Trevor was a nice guy, but the entire situation was movie-worthy creepy and every sense Jared had was telling him to get out of there. “Uh, no, I really have to be . . . going.” Jared turned sharply the avoid the car and Trevor moved after him.

“Jared!” 

Jared was halfway into the street, and he darted a glance back. Trevor had his arm extended over the roof of the car, open badge in his hand. FBI. 

Trevor was a federal agent. Jared’s stomach lurched in alarm. Oh, shit, was the flirting some kind of prostitution sting? No, that was stupid. This had to be about Jensen. Jared took a deep breath.

“Seriously?” He shouted above the sound of the rain. “You’re FBI now?”

“I was always FBI. We need to talk. Can you get in the car?”

Jared pointed at the badge. “How do I know that isn’t fake?”

“You want to talk to my supervisor?” Trevor’s hand went to his pocket, ready to pull out a phone. His dark hair was plastered to his skull, rain water running into his eyes, and Jared realized he was probably older than the mid-twenties he looked. 

Jared hesitated. He could refuse and just go home. If the FBI wanted something from him, they would just try again. Lack of cooperation might make him look guilty, and he hadn’t done anything wrong, technically. Nothing they could actually pin on him. Right?

God, what had his life come to. 

He moved back towards the car, let Trevor open the back door for him. His wet clothes clung uncomfortably and he shivered in the sudden temperature change. 

Trevor got in the front seat, pulled the door closed. 

“Jared, this is Mike Turner, my partner.” 

The guy in the front seat twisted around to offer a hand and Jared took it in a damp handshake. Turner was as least ten years older than Trevor with short, greying hair and laugh lines. 

Trevor wiped as the water running from his hairline. “Jesus, this is shit weather.”

Jared wasn’t interested in the weather. “So what do you want to talk about?” He sounded a little hostile. But really, this guy had been fucking with him for weeks. 

Trevor gave him a serious, open look. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you who I was right off, but I needed to see how far your involvement went. It was for your own safety.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jared,” Mike broke in, “How long have you known Jensen Ackles?”

“What?” He knew it had to be about Jensen, but hearing his name still sent a spike of panic thought Jared’s gut. 

“We know you’ve been involved with him since last year when you worked at his club. Did you have any contact before that?”

“No. Look, what’s this about?”

Mike gave Trevor a kind of raised eyebrow I-told-you-so look, and Jared bit his tongue before he said something he really shouldn’t. 

“I’m assuming you know who Ackles is and what he does. You’re not the first – ”

“I don’t know anything about that. I worked at his club for about six months and then the asshole fired me.”

“That’s not all,” Trevor said with an odd smile. “You’ve been seeing him pretty exclusively for a while now.”

Jared choked on a weak laugh. Exclusive, yeah right. “Jensen doesn’t do exclusive.” Okay, that was more than he needed to say, but what did these guys know about his relationship with Jensen? 

“You, not him. We know all about Ackles’ sexual habits,” Mike said dryly. 

Jared sighed, tugged wet fabric clinging in all the uncomfortable places. “Can we get to the point? I’d like to get home and change. 

“Mike’s right,” Trevor said. “He’s been working on Ackles’ for years. If anyone is an expert, he is. Jensen Ackles never sticks with one person longer than two months. You’re a new record, and that tells us there’s something else going on here.”

The words lit a odd fire in Jared’s chest. Jensen probably fucked someone new every night of the week, but Jared was the one he wouldn’t let go. It was a double-sided hook. Jared made sure to hide his expression, tried to look innocent and useless. “I don’t know what you think I can give you.”

“There was a gap there, but now you’re seeing Jensen on a semi-regular basis again, yes? We could work with that.”

They’ve been watching him, following him, Jared realized. Or following Jensen. Maybe both. Shit. “You want me to spy on Jensen.”

“No,” Trevor said quickly. “You wouldn’t do anything out of the ordinary, nothing to put yourself at risk. We’d just like to discuss the possibility with you.”

Jared looked from one man to the other. Everyone wanted something from him, and goddammit, Jared had more than himself to think about now. “Why would I?”

Trevor’s brow creased in an expression of earnestness. “Jared, if you work with us I can promise a immunity –”

“I’m not a criminal,” Jared said quickly. 

“Prostitution is still illegal in New York,” Mike said, amused. 

Jared felt his breathing speed up.“You can’t . . .” Prove it? Arrest me for that? The interior of the car was too humid and Jared felt lightheaded. 

“Jared, we know how Ackles operates,” Tevor jumped in. “And we know about your dad. Ackles is a manipulator, and there have been a lot of young people in your position. He’s not a nice guy, but you can help us stop him. You know the youngest McNulty son has been missing for months now? We’re pretty sure Ackles had a hand in that. It means things are moving in the McNulty ranks, it could be the opportunity we need.”

“You think Jensen killed him?” Jared’s mind flashed the cold smell of smoke and snow, the warm, dim light of his apartment, Jensen’s shadow above him on the night of the shooting.

“Missing. There’s no body, we can’t prove anything,” Mike said. 

“Jared?” Trevor prodded as Jared stared at the water beaded glass. 

“I don’t know what you think I can give you.” Jared stomach was knotted with tension, he felt sick. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Now sitting here in the car with two FBI agents, just pieces of a massive moving machine that hovered over him. Jared had become a criminal by association and now he had to redeem himself. 

Trevor looked at Mike, like it was a signal of some kind. Mike leaned into the arm his had braced on his seat. “I was first assigned to Ackles six years ago, when he was still pretty much a nobody. You know the first thing I put in his file? It was a news report on a body some teenagers found in the woods outside Bronxville. Melissa Carrington, nineteen. Someone shot her twice in the head.”

Tight muscles twitched along Jared’s thigh. “What does this have to do with Jensen?” 

Mike was watching Jared with a knowing look. “Melissa was Jensen’s girl. She also had a month old son when she disappeared. No one ever found the baby.”

“Why would Jensen kill . . . why do you think it was Jensen?”

“At the time I wasn’t sure it was, but after a few years it became a pattern. Bad things happen to people who become attached to Jensen Ackles.”

“Is that supposed to be incentive for me?” Lorna. Melissa. 

Trevor was watching Jared, a concerned look on his face, but Mike was blase when he said, “Considering you’re pregnant with his baby, it should be.”

“How did you know that.” Jared heard his voice as something outside himself. The only thing he could think, _if they know, Jensen knows. Jensen knows, Jensen knows._

“Didn’t, actually. I made a guess. But it only complicates your position, doesn’t it? You’re a smart kid, Jared, you must know Jensen isn’t going to want you around when he finds out.”

Jared’s hands were shaking as he fumbled for the door handle. “I have to get home.”

“Jared . . . hey, hold up.” Trevor grabbed Jared’s shoulder, trying to keep him in place. “We can drive you home, or at least to the train.”

Jared sat back, muscle too weak to work properly anyway. He worked to hold down the thick, smothering panic in his lungs. He needed a clear head to think, to figure out how this all changed his plans. For the briefest of moments Jared was tempted to accept Trevor’s offer, whatever it was, just as long as it got him away somewhere safe. Witness protection. Was that an option?

And immediately he knew it wasn’t. Not because there was no time left, which was also true, but because Jared couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn on Jensen like that. It wasn’t even some loyalty born out of obsession or love or whatever. He didn’t want to get involved, didn’t want to pick sides. Jared had a new responsibility and it wasn’t to the FBI _or_ Jensen. 

Trevor and Agent Turner let Jared out at his stop. As he was leaving the car Trevor turned to Jared, offering an official card. The concerned, invested expression was back on his face. 

“Jared, whatever you decide to do, you should be careful. Jensen Ackles is a dangerous man.”

“I know,” Jared said. He knew, but it hadn’t stopped his slow motion fall.

“I’m not being hyperbolic when I say he’s a psychopath. It’s pinned in his file.”

“Yeah, got it,” Jared said stiffly. “Thanks anyway.” 

He felt the Agents watching him from inside their car as he walked away, couldn’t shake the feeling even when he was out of sight. Goddamnit. This was not how things were supposed to go.

Leaving the subway, Jared checked his phone. He’d missed a call from Jensen. 

A kind of calmness settled over Jared. He rubbed his thumb against the edge of his phone, imagining Jensen’s voice, the low, intimate timbre that made Jared sure he’d be fantastic as phone sex. Calling him one last time would be a risk. Jared sighed and put his phone away. 

The Plan was dead. Bled out while the rain rattled against the windows of the Agents’ car. Jared sucked at plans, but now it was improvisation, and he was pretty good at that, by necessity. 

Jared spent the night packing, then re-packing to only what he could carry. It was 4:20 a.m. when Jared bagged up all his trash to take down, left his apartment in order and locked the door behind himself. 

He stopped at the first ATM he found and emptied his account down to $5. At the bus station Jared bought a ticket for the first destination that caught his eye. A last minute thought hit him and he pulled out his phone, sent a text to his mom. 

_getting a new phone, I’ll text you my new number when I have it_

In the men’s room Jared broke apart his phone, pulled the SIM card, left the rest as the bottom of the trash bin. 

He bought a pile of vending machine snacks and bottled water, and boarded his bus with a few minutes to spare. He took a window seat, watched the city pass, watched the lights fade into dawn. Most of the other passengers were settling in to sleep the cramped, uncomfortable sleep of bus travelers. As the sun broke over the horizon, streaming though the dirty window glass, Jared pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the new curve. 

_Sorry, kid. You’re dad’s an idiot, and the other one’s an asshole. I’m gonna do the best I can for you, but I might fuck up, so you’ll have to be patient, okay?_

There was no responding kick, nothing appropriately theatrical, but Jared’s stomach growled loudly, which was close enough. He broke open a candy bar and put in his earbuds, settling in for the eight hour ride to Pittsburgh.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

When Jared’s dad was arrested it sent a silent fracture through his family that had been widening ever since. Jared never asked his mom what she planned to do when her husband was finally released; if there were conversations between them about what Jared’s dad had done, Jared never heard anything about it. When he told his mom he was quitting college to get full-time work, she hadn’t even make a token protest. The school fund Jared’s parents had started when he hit first grade had been gutted along with everything else. That knowledge made it easier for Jared when he lied to his mom about his job, lied about his friends. Part of it was the bitterness, because he wouldn’t have had to quit college if his dad hadn’t fucked up, but mostly it was the distracted weariness in his mother’s voice each time they talked. She didn’t need more one more thing to worry about. Jared let the untruths grow a distance between them.

Now on a bus heading to “far away” Jared appreciated his unwitting preparation. Working at a night club was hardly a questionable choice when measured against running away from your possibly psychotic not-boyfriend to save his baby you were pregnant with. They already had one screw up in the family, Jared didn’t think his mom could handle another. 

Quitting college, working full time, living under the weight of a father serving time - Jared had thought he was growing up, taking on responsibility most kids his age didn’t even consider. It couldn’t compare to the realization he now had a life completely dependent on him. Thinking about his mom, and the baby growing inside him, Jared’s throat was tight with tears. His kid wouldn’t even know what it was like to have two parents, but maybe they could have a grandmother and aunts.

Night found Jared, stiff and tired from all day on a bus, standing in the middle of Pittsburgh International, feeling utterly alone, his energy flagging, and perilously close to a breakdown. Fuck anyone who said it was hormones, his life had just disintegrated. He was allowed to start panicking, now.

_Just need to keep moving. Doesn’t matter where, just as long as it’s away._

Denver caught his eye and Jared’s tired brain latched on. Colorado was a whole country away. 

The four hours he had to wait for departure Jared spent eating, then sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair. By the time his flight was taking off, Jared was too exhausted to worry. He was asleep as soon as he sat down, head resting against the window as the city lights faded below.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Jared spent his first night in Denver at a cheap motel where the other tenants woke him by screaming outside at two in the morning. The first thing he did the next day was look up the closest shelter.

His tentative plan was to save money by living in shelters till he had a job. It sounded feasible, but after a week of living homeless, saving every penny he had to feed his constantly empty stomach, Jared was desperate, and trying not to panic. No one wanted to hire a pregnant college dropout with a shitty résumé. Jared was too afraid to put down any of the jobs from New York. He didn’t want prospective bosses calling and tipping anyone off as to where he was. He figured if he moved around he could sleep in shelters for a while to stay off the street, but prenatal care, enough food, and baby supplies were a little harder to come by.

It was lying in the noisy dark of a shelter full for the night that Jared felt his baby move for the first time. The jump of excitement had him sitting up in bed, looking for someone to tell. The immediate drop the followed made him roll over and bury his face in the thin blanket to keep from crying. And right then he knew, he couldn’t keep it up any longer. 

Nine days after arriving in the city, Jared left. His mom’s parents lived in Seattle. They were the kind of grandparents who sent an expensive gift every year in lieu of a more hands on approach. Jared was pretty sure they weren’t interested in grandkids, especially homeless, pregnant ones; there were a lot of thing Jared’s pride would have kept him from doing a year ago, but now he had more to think about.

Before leaving Denver, Jared stopped at a library to email his mom a lie about how much trouble he was having with his phone service.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Hitchhiking, Jared found, was possibly the most miserable mode of travel available. Also, a pregnant stomach was better than any sob story. He made unrepentant use of it. If Jared was lucky, he’d catch one ride straight after another, and he could sleep, tucked against the door. A part of him acknowledged how dangerous it was to let his guard down like that around strangers, but after fighting exhaustion for three hours in the dim cab of a rancher’s truck, lulled by the lullaby of classic country, Jared lost the fight. He was just too tired to care.

His luck ran out pretty damn quit. His second night on the road, somewhere between Twin Falls and Boise, Jared found himself alone at a deserted roadside rest stop as the cool crept in with the falling dusk. The ride that dropped him lived in the middle of fucking nowhere, which meant the closest anywhere was also nowhere. The smell of sun-baked wood from the bench he was sitting on and crickets singing shrilly in the long grass sent a sharp pain of loneliness through Jared’s chest. In an instant he was both burning with anger and full of self-pity. He hadn’t had a shower in days, he was eating diner food and vending machine snacks, begging rides from strangers, and now he was about to spend the night in a rest stop bathroom. 

“Jensen, you piece of shit, I hope you die. I hope you fall off your fucking boat and drown!” Jared yelled at the hazy purple sky. 

The crickets close by went silent, then after a minuet begin again, undeterred by Jared’s sharp panting breaths. Fuck them, too.

The sound of a car pulling up broke Jared out of his internal pity party and he scrambled up off the bench. If he had to crawl and beg, he was going to be leaving with that car.

It was a compact sedan, windows down, and Jared recognized _The Neighborhood_ playing over the sound of the running engine. Jared hitched his pack up and started across the asphalt turn-in. For every person who gave Jared a ride, and the hundreds more who just sped on past, there were a few who slowed down enough to give Jared a good long look, like they were deciding if he was a serial killer. Apparently he looked pretty shifty, because they all kept on driving. It was better than the few cars that chucked trash out their windows at him, but right now Jared would gladly share a back seat with a months worth of fast food wrappers if it meant he could have a shower and a hot meal tonight. So he put on his best “I’m totally not a serial killer” face and kept his pack clear of his pregnant belly. Apparently pregnant was synonymous with harmless, which made no sense to Jared, but he’d take what he could get. 

The car engine cut off just as Jared approached, and the passenger door swung open. Ankle boots and legs with a dark natural tan were followed by a girl in a flower print dress, the sides of her blue hair shaved. 

“Hey,” Jared said when he reached the bumper of the car.

The girl started, turning towards Jared. “Wow, you scared me,” she laughed. “Didn’t see your car.”

Through the window, Jared saw the outline of the driver was female, slender and long-haired.

“Sorry.” Two girls alone weren’t going to pick up a big guy like him. “I don’t actually have a car, I was dropped here a while back, was hoping I could hitch a ride.”

The driver’s door opened and a tall girl with the same dark tan got out, adjusting her jean cut-offs. She looked at Jared across the roof of the car. There was a definite family resemblance. “That’s some bad planning.”

“Wasn’t my plan.” 

“Where’re you headed?” She looked like the older of the two, maybe had a few years on Jared.

“Uh, Federal Way,” Jared said. Close enough.

“Is that real?” the blue-hared girl asked. When Jared looked at her she twirled her finger to indicate his rounded belly. 

Jared laughed, weak and tired. “Very real.” _So please give don’t make me spend the night here._

The girl tilted her head, colored hair bright against her dark skin. “You’d be surprised how many people fake it for a lift.”

“Is it going to get me a lift?” Even if he was a subtle person, he was too tired now. “I promise I’m not a creep, just need to get somewhere to stay for the night.”

“Carrie?”

The other girl pulled her long hair over one shoulder, using the elastic band on her wrist to make a loose ponytail. “Yeah, we can take you as far as McCall.” She locked the car and shoved the keys into her pocket. “This is our last stop till for a while, so if you need to, like use the bathroom . . .”

Jared sighed out a relieved breath. “Yes, thank you. I mean no, I’m good, I’ll just wait for you here.”

He leaned against the sun-warm metal of the car as both girls headed into the restrooms. His skin felt too tight, grimy with sweat and dust, itchy and unpleasant. He’d been drinking as much water as possible, but still felt on the edge of dehydration. 

And starvation. He’d kill for a plate of macaroni and cheese with mushrooms and Italian sausage. And fresh spinach. Extra cheese. 

Suddenly the thought of anything that came from a package made Jared want to gag, the memory scent of chocolate bars and chips coating his throat with nauseous saliva. He walked away from the car, in case he really did puke, but after a long moment of breathing and staring at the dusty gravel, his stomach settled. 

The restroom door squeaked open and the girls voices carried as they exited, heading back towards their car. 

“I’m Carrie, by the way,” the taller girl said when she was close enough to offer her hand. Jared took it. 

“And I’m Jasmine,” the blue-haired girl said. Jared shook her hand too. 

“Jared. Thanks for giving me a lift.”

The back seat of the car was trash-free and in the interior smelled like perfume and plastic. The music came on as soon as the engine started and they pulled into the highway as the sun was setting, long shadows running over the road. Jared settled back, enjoying something softer than a wooden bench, letting the cool air from the open windows flow over him.

Both girls seemed content to stay in comfortable silence, occasionally humming along with the music, and Jared was halfway asleep when Jasmine asked, “How far along are you?”

Jared blinked awake, surprised to find it full dusk, car headlights glowing yellow. 

“Uh . . .” Jared tried to count back, “seventeen weeks, maybe?”

“You haven’t been in for a scan?”

“Not yet. Haven’t been to a doctor.”

Even in the dim light Jasmine looked disapproving. 

Carrie spoke up. “Jazz is studying midwifery, so she’s about to tell you all about the importance of early care.”

“Yeah?” The word ended in a yawn Jared couldn’t suppress. 

“I’m apprenticing. My future sister is a midwife, she’s taking me under her wing.” Jasmine propped her feet on the dash.

“And by that she means her brother’s fiancé,” Carrie said. 

“You two look alike,” Jared said vaguely. It was getting hard to stay awake. 

“Cousins, but we were meant to be born as twins,” Carrie said.

Jasmine pulled her feet off the dash twisting towards Jared. “Okay, so who do you think is older?”

“Carrie?” Jared guessed. 

“Oh yeah,” Carrie said. 

Jasmine groaned. “Taller doesn’t mean older. What’s wrong with people?”

There was a flutter south of Jared’s ribs; the baby was awake right on schedule, just when it was time for Jared to be asleep. He pressed a hand against the active area. It didn’t hurt, didn’t even feel like much, but there was the weirdness of something _moving_ inside him.

“She’s younger by six hours,” Jasmine said, “but technically it’s a whole day because it was after midnight.”

Carrie took one of the water bottles from the cup holder and unscrewed the cap. “I just didn’t want to share my birthday with you.”

Jared leaned his head against the window. Sleep was pulling him down and he couldn’t fight it any longer. The girls’ banter faded out with the hum of the car tires, into a dream like smoke through cracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a bit of retcon. I've been calling the vaguely mentioned "family" that Jensen is associated with Benedetti, which is an Italian name. In the Italian American mafia you have to be at least half Italian, which Jensen and some of his guys are clearly not. Though I'm not strictly following fact anyway, sometimes details just drive me fucking crazy. So I'm officially changing the family name to McNulty, which is Irish. There have also been Ackles in Ireland, as it happens. 
> 
> There isn't really an Irish mob presence in New York anymore (or nowhere near as strong as it used to be) so for that and other reasons the mafia in my story is highly (highly!) fictionalized.
> 
> [RLBIVOB Tumblr tag](http://goldencyborg.tumblr.com/tagged/rlbivob) (includes NSFW stuff).


	9. While Time Lasts

Someone was shaking him, fingers firm but gentle on his shoulder. Cold air, the stiff, chilled feel of sleeping in a car. Voices. A dog barking.

Jared blinked in the light – the car’s interior and the bright-white light from outside. 

“You awake now?” 

Jasmine was leaning into his face, throwing a dark shadow. 

“ ‘m awake,” Jared mumbled, sucked in a deep breath of cold night air. 

“That’s what you said last time, but I’m pretty sure your were talking in your sleep.”

Jared fumbled with the seat belt buckle. “Where are we?”

“You don’t remember? You really weren’t up to hunting down a place tonight, so I brought you home.”

That caught Jared’s attention, and when he crawled out of the cramped back seat, he saw the car was parked in front of a two storey house with attached garage. Pine trees grew close to the buildings and the soil was sandy where the front yard lacked grass. A truck and a ford explorer were parked on front of the closes garage door, under bright outdoor lights. 

A cold nose bumped into Jared’s hand and he looked down at the yellow Labrador that was wiggling around in excitement, its tail wagging like crazy. 

“Bailey, kennel,” Jasmine said, and the dog turned in confused circles.

Jared shivered in the chill night air, still groggy enough that the prospect of a warm bed was smothering the natural reservation to being taken in by total strangers. He gave it about five seconds, considering the unavoidable questions, the next morning, the inconvenience. He made a token protest anyway.

“You don’t have to – ”

“It’s not trouble, we have room, and I’m going back into town tomorrow anyway, so I’ll just drop you off,” Jasmine said. 

Carrie emerged from the side door of the garage. “Got it all?” 

“You left the trash,” Jasmine said, and Jared realized his pack was gone, apparently already carted off inside. 

“Too tired, I’ll get it tomorrow.” 

Carrie left, calling for the dog, and Jasmine followed, so Jared did too. He meant to ask if the girls lived alone, which didn’t seem likely, but the thought floated through his head and away. Carrie was talking to the dog, trying to get it into a kennel on one side of the nearly empty garage. 

“She put your stuff in the spare room. C’mon, I’ll show you,” Jasmine said, leading Jared up stairs and through the door into a mudroom, They passed through the dark kitchen and to the lit basement stairwell. Downstairs it was fully finished, the floors carpeted in a mottled office grey. Jasmine led Jared down a hall to a room with the door open and light on. The only thing Jared really saw was the double bed made up with fluffy pillows and comforter. Carrie had set his pack on the floor at the foot of it. 

Jasmine pushed open a door to show an adjoining bathroom. She clicked on the light. “Bathroom in here. It’s got towels and stuff, so use whatever you need.” She turned back, combing her bangs away from her face. “You hungry? We didn’t stop for food, so you probably need something.”

Even as tired as he was, Jared was very aware of his empty stomach. God, he was totally taking advantage of these people, but he had recently discovered there was something about having literally nothing that broke your resistence to charity. 

Jasmine spoke up before he could answer, saving him, “I’ll bring some sandwiches, okay? Practically breakfast time, anyway,” she grinned, and left, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her. 

Jared looked around the room, catching sight of the alarm clock on the bedside table. 1:38 a.m. He stood and stared blankly till the numbers blinked to 1:39. A shower. Yeah, that would be good. 

Jared yawned and stumbled to his pack, only to realize he really had nothing clean to wear anymore. Another negative of living on the run. He took the least dirty clothes he had and locked himself in the bathroom. Everything looked shiny new, like the house itself, and there was shampoo and soap in shower. Jared stood under the hot water till he was warm and loose and marginally more awake.

When he returned to the bedroom the lamp was on and a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water had been left on the bedside table. A swell of teary gratitude unexpectedly choked Jared up. He felt lucky to get a ride, and now he had a place to sleep and a free meal from people who had no reason to help him. It was an injection of hope into what had been the worst two weeks of Jared’s life. 

Fighting back tears of weary relief, Jared sat on the bed and practically inhaled everything Jasmine had left for him. He didn’t bother to brush his teeth after, just turned off the light and collapsed into bed. Sleep was almost instantaneous. 

When he woke it, was slowly, no alarm to jerk him to awareness, no shouting outside his window, no one shaking him in the cold, stale air of an unfamiliar car. It was the first time in a long, long time he had woken naturally, even if it was because his stomach was demanding food. It wasn’t till he rolled over, fumbling for his phone, that he remembered where he was, and Jared’s groaned. As good as a full night’s sleep in a real bed was, Jared didn’t like getting involved with strangers. He’d learned in the past year it meant questions and more lying and eventually, problems. 

The clock read 10:23 a.m. and Jared hauled himself out of bed, reluctant to leave, reluctant to stay. Seattle was still hours away. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d gone far too long without eating. 

Upstairs, someone was singing. Jared followed the sound to the kitchen. Carrie was alone in the room now brightly lit by natural light coming through tall windows Jared hadn’t noticed in the dark. She was wearing a t-shirt two sizes too large and purple leggings, busy at the island counter rolling dough into balls and laying them out in rows on a cookie sheet. 

Jared hung back, not wanting to intrude, but Carrie turned and caught him. She grinned. 

“Hey, sleep okay?” Everything about her was more relaxed, more open than last night. 

“Yeah, really well,” Jared said honestly. 

“Hungry?” She didn’t wait for a reply, just rinsed her hands of at the sink and pulled tupperware from a shiny chrome refrigerator. 

“You can make up a plate and microwave it. It’s just leftover breakfast, but I cooked, so promise it’s edible.”

Carrie went back to rolling cookie dough and Jared opened the containers – link sausage, mixed fresh fruit, waffles – and dished up. The house was quiet, so when the dog started barking outside it was overly loud. 

Carrie looked up. “Hannah’s home.”

Jared looked up from his food. Another roommate? Not like it mattered, he was leaving as soon as he could get a ride. Hopefully Hannah wouldn’t be put out by his presence. 

“She’s my aunt,” Carried went on without being asked. “She lets me bum off her during the summer.”

Oh. “She’s okay with me being here?”

“Oh, yeah. She knows you’re – ” 

The dog came trotting into the kitchen, tail thrashing, darting happily from Carrie to Jared. A middle-age woman with dark, grey-streaked hair knotted loosely on top of her head and pastel skinny pants followed behind. She already had a smile in her eyes and when she looked at Jared, her mouth smiled, too. 

“Jared, hi. I’m Hannah, Jasmine’s mom.” 

Jared stood, ready to thank her for letting him stay in her house, but she was dumping her purse on the counter, reaching into Carrie’s bowl, scooping out a spoon of cookie dough. She perched on one of the island stools, and smiled at Jared. “I will eat this stuff by the pound, and Carrie knows it.”

“Can’t expect me to know your weakness and not exploit it.” Carrie opened the oven and slid the first sheet inside. She leaned against the counter and watched Jared and Hannah. 

“So, Jared, you’re heading to Federal Way. Are you going to be hitching the whole way?” It was blunt, but Hannah somehow made it sound casual and friendly. 

Jared shrugged, tried to show it didn’t concern him. “Probably.” Make that definitely. Unless he found some way to make a bit of cash. The obvious option made his stomach curl. 

“I’m going to be nosey now,” Hannah smiled at Carrie’s eye-roll, “and ask if you have money for food and lodging along the way.” 

Jared smiled, fake as it felt. “I’ll be okay. I have people waiting for me.” 

He thought it was a pretty good non-answer, but Hannah obviously didn’t. “It’s pretty rough living on the road like that, though. Food and adequate sleep is really important for you right now.”

Jared laughed, a weak kind of chuckle. Did this lady think she was telling him something he didn’t know? Like people chose to take off cross-country, penniless and pregnant. “I’ll be okay, it’s not too far.”

“Jared,” Hannah said, soft and serious. “I was nineteen when I had my first kid. I was four months pregnant when my boyfriend kicked me out of our apartment and changed the locks.”

Jared glanced at Carrie, but she was looking in on the cookies. The smell of sugar and melting chocolate was heavy in the kitchen. 

Jared made swirls with his fort in the syrup pooled on his plate. “I’m not a teenager, and no one kicked me out. I just needed to get . . . needed a change.”

“Okay, but if you’re hitchhiking alone, you obviously don’t have the support you deserve. Someone helped me back when I thought the only option I have was to get rid of my baby, and I want to do the same for you.”

Jared knew he should feel grateful; this woman had already been more than generous, even if it was her daughter’s doing, initially. There was no reason for the bitter resentment that burned hot and sudden in Jared chest. But he shouldn’t _have_ to be in a stranger’s kitchen, eating their food, being offered their help. 

Even as he wanted to be angry, he knew the only person he could really blame for his situation was himself. “I’m not getting rid of my baby,” Jared said sharply.

Hannah nodded, her eyes a little sad. 

Jared stood. “I’m sorry I have to ask, but could I get a ride into town?”

“You can,” Hannah said. “But next week I’ll be driving up to Seattle for business, and I could drop you off. If you’re not in a hurry, we’d love to have you as our guest in the meantime.”

The oven timer beeped in the silence and Carrie turned to pull open the door. The scent of fresh cookies was something Jared hadn’t smelt since before he’d left home for school, and even though it wasn’t exactly the same, just the thought made him homesick. Right then Jared wished he could call his mom, hear her voice, calm and adult and reassuring. What the fuck was he doing having a baby when he still felt like a kid himself?

“I know you can take care of yourself, but you’re not just taking care of yourself now. Trust me, I know how hard it is the first time around.”

“Okay,” Jared heard himself saying, and it was oddly a relief. Misplaced resentment and wounded pride aside, no reason to take it back now. He stood there for an awkward moment, then quickly added, “Thanks. That’s . . . thanks.”

Hannah smiled. “Alright. We’re happy to have you here.” 

Agreeing to stay was a tacit admission that there really was no one waiting for him in Federal Way, or Seattle, or anywhere. Jared hoped Hannah wouldn’t call him on it. 

She didn’t. They sat at the kitchen island and had cookies and milk, and talked about Hannah’s job in real estate and Carrie’s last year for a B.S. in psychology at Boise State. When Carrie took the dog out for a run, Hannah told Jared to make use of anything in the house, then showed him the laundry room, the pantry, and the hot tub on the back deck. 

Jared never had a problem fitting in with people, or sharing space, even with people he didn’t know well. But there was a dig difference in settling in someplace he was supposed to be, and navigating the odd situation of being taken in by strangers. Being out of place seemed to be the theme of the whole past year, starting with his job at The Jade Room. 

Jensen. What was the time frame on escaping shitty relationships? He wouldn’t try and find Jared, now, would he? Maybe he’d already looked and given up. It’s not like he didn’t have enough guys and girls to fuck when Jared wasn’t around. 

Stupidly, that just made Jared feel worse. He dropped his duffle on the shiny tile of the brightly-lit laundry room and started unpacking it into the washer. The room smelt of dryer sheets and a sharp paint scent. Unfamiliar.

Once Carrie came back from her run, Jared spent the rest of the day with her playing video games, watching anime, and eating more food than should have been possible. 

“Seriously, this is what I do when I have free time. I hit a few music festivals, cook food then pig out and sleep. You’re not cramping my style at all,” Carrie said when Jared asked halfway through the first season of Deadman Wonderland. 

“It’s nice to have someone to do it with.”

Jared let himself take Carrie at her word, let his worries retreat for the moment. Let Carrie feed him real food and try to convince him of the validity of anime as an entertainment genre. 

When Jasmine showed up that evening she had another woman with her. She was tall and pale with short white-blonde hair and a diamond stud in her delicate nose. 

“This is Karla, my almost-sister,” Jasmine said, dumping her bag on the floor and taking the other couch. Jared and Carrie were still sprawled out, arguing American animation vs anime. 

“She’s the best midwife in forty states.”

Karla took a seat next to Jasmine. “Only forty?” she said, smiling, and there was a soft accent Jared couldn’t place.

“I’m Karla Backlund, I have a midwifery practice in McCall,” Karla said to Jared. 

Jared straightened up, now oddly conscious of his pregnant belly. “Jared, but you probably know that.”

Carrie turned the TV volume down. “Mark coming over for dinner?” 

“He is,” Karla said. “Is Hannah in her office?”

“Think so,” Carrie said. “Hey, I’m cooking tonight. Jared and me are going to make chicken cordon bleu.”

It was the first he’d heard of it, but the inclusion made Jared a lot thankful and a little nervous, like maybe he’d end up accepting too much without knowing. How were these people so fucking nice?

Karla disappeared into Hannah’s home office and Jasmine joined Jared and Carrie in the kitchen and turned on some music while they worked. As they were setting the table Karla reappeared, holding the hand of a man. He had the same dark hair and tanned skin as Jasmine, Hannah and Carrie. 

“This is Mark, my fiancé,” Karla said, tucking herself against his side. Of the two, she was just a hair taller. 

Mark grinned, wide and bright, as he said hello and shook Jared’s hand, but the look was for Karla. It was the look of a someone perfectly happy in love, and Jared was sure he’d never seen that look in Jensen’s eyes. Was never going to. 

Dinner was loud, friendly and relaxed. Everyone acted like Jared belonged there at the table, joining in on the family dinner. It should have felt good, but it was equal parts painful. It seemed every good thing in Jared’s life now reminded him of something else he’d lost, something he never had. Karla seemed to notice when the melancholy hit near the end of the meal, and while Mark and the girls cleared off the table, she asked Jared to walk out on the deck with her. 

It was still light, the air almost cold with the high elevation. Karla led Jared over to a porch swing and waited till they were both seated.

“You’re about seventeen weeks? I hope you don’t mind Jasmine told me.” 

Jared nodded, shrugged. “Yeah, pretty sure.” 

“Have you had any pre-natal care, at all?”

Jared felt a familiar prickling of embarrassed annoyance. He knew he was fucking up already by not getting proper care. Even as he decided to keep the baby, he was failing it before it was even born. What if there was a something wrong that needed immediate attention? 

Jared tried to smile, tried to sound like he was it all under control. “It’s not a big deal. I’m going to see a doctor when I get to . . . a friend’s place.”

Karla hitched one leg up to turn towards Jared. “So you’ll have something set up soon. That is good. But while you’re in town, I’d like to offer any care you need. Is that something you’d be comfortable with?”

“I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” _Pay you. Let you give it me for free. Sorry, this is all making me really uncomfortable._ But it wasn’t just Jared now, it was the baby, too. That changed things, and Jared needed to start acting like it.

“As a free service,” Karla said. “You don’t have to worry about having insurance or paying for it at all. I want to help you, both for your sake and your baby’s, and for mine as well. It’s gives me healing as I help others.” Karla linked her fingers and laid her palms over her chest. “I like to think it’s part of the symbiosis of humanity.”

Jared looked at her, not sure what he was supposed to say to that. “Alright,” he tried. 

Karla smiled. “Good, that is wonderful. Tomorrow, then.”

The next morning started off badly when Jared woke at three a.m. with severe nausea. He crawled out of bed and stumbled in the dark to the bathroom. There was no pattern to his puking, some days were great, others miserable. Maybe it was the avocados he’d eaten in the salad last night, maybe it was nothing. 

After twenty minutes hanging over the toilet waiting for the next bout of heaving, he was too uncomfortable to really sleep and when he made it back to bed he just dozed. 

Hannah had already left when Jared made it upstairs. He ate breakfast with Jasmine and Carrie and then rode with Jasmine into town. 

Karla’s office was in her house, a white two storey with wraparound porch. The lower floor had been converted into a professional looking office with reception desk, exam rooms, and on-site delivery rooms. 

“Conception to birth, the natural way,” Karla said as she led Jared into one of the exam rooms. She ignored the paper-covered table and directed Jared over to the chairs. 

“I used to be a labor and delivery nurse, I had to be the bad cop all the time. Now I can be nice. I like the change. Lets just talk for a bit and you can tell me how things have been.”

They talked. Jared told her about the unpredictable nausea, hunger, dizziness, when the baby moved. When they finally got around to the actual exam, Karla explained that because she wasn’t going to be his permanent caregiver the exam was truncated. It seemed pretty thorough to Jared, so apparently there was a fuck ton of stuff he would have to go through in the future. 

“It’s important to have early care, so we’ll do what we can today,” she said, stripping off the blood pressure cuff. “You’re regular doctor will be able to do the rest. Ready to see your baby?”

Jared’s hands were shaking when he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed up his shirt. He had to struggle a bit with the jeans. All his clothes were already tight, and Karla had noted that he was underweight for seventeen weeks. He hadn’t even thought about shopping for new stuff. 

When the rushing sound started Karla smiled. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

It was like some kind of underwater sci-fi sound affect, not much like a heartbeat, and way too fast. “Should it be that fast?” 

Before Jared could panic, Karla nodded. “It’s perfect, Jared. 145 is just right for seventeen weeks.”

Oh thank god. Jared hadn’t screwed it up. It was okay, it was still healthy. He could do better. He would do better, he’d right and sleep and . . .

“Look, Jared, look. There’s your baby.”

Jared looked. People always said stupid, cheesy things about their first experience with parenthood. Jared thought he knew why. It was surreal. He stared at the grainy picture, not even sure what was what, only half listening as Karla pointed out body parts. That was his kid. That was his and Jensen’s kid, right there. It had a head, and two arms, and . . .

“It’s sucking its thumb,” Jared blurted out, breathless. He’d forgotten to breathe. 

Karla was all smiles. “They are. Do you want to know the sex?”

Jared practically came up off the table at that. “Jesus, you can already tell? What is it?”

Karla bit her top lip around a smile, like she was trying not to laugh. “I can see it right now, they’re in a good position.”

“Yes, god, yes,” Jared said. 

“Congratulations, you’re having a boy.”

_Jensen, you’re gonna get a son._

It was all Jared could think about for the rest of the day. He was having a boy. Karla gave him pictures of the scan, pamphlets, bottles of multi-vitamins and folic acid. As they were leaving, Jasmine asked him if he needed anything while they were in town, but Jared’s just shook his head. They stopped at a grocery store and Jared trailed Jasmine through the produce aisle feeling like he wasn’t quite himself anymore.

That night they all grilled hamburgers on the back deck and when Jared mentioned the baby was going to be a boy, everyone was as excited as if Jared were a part of the family and the baby was theirs, too.

The weekend stretched long for Jared till it seemed he’d been living with the Martins far longer than just a few days. It was the first time in a long time he had constant company without any stresses or expectations attached. He ate constantly, he slept well. Monday evening when Hannah told him she was driving up to Seattle the next morning, Jared didn’t let anything show. Hannah had a soft look in her eyes, like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

They left Tuesday morning at six a.m. as the sun just coming up. Carrie and Jasmine were both awake already, and they followed Jared and Hannah out to the garage, each taking a turn hugging Jared goodbye. They both squeezed alarmingly tight, even though Carrie’s head barely came to Jared’s collarbone and Jasmine’s even lower 

“Here,” Carrie shoved a purple sticky note at Jared. “I want updates and baby pictures, okay?” There were two phone numbers written in pen, designated J and C. 

“Okay,” Jared said, smiling too hard. “Promise.” 

It was quiet inside the car as Hannah backed out of the garage and turned down the driveway. Jared watched the sunrise just glimmering through the trees and told himself he better not fucking cry. 

“I think they’re both a little in love with you,” Hannah said, half teasing. 

“Me too,” Jared said, not even sure what he meant by that. 

Hannah settled one hand on Jared’s arm, her fingers warm and firm, and the contact was unexpectedly welcome. Jared kept looking out the window and by the time they turned into the highway, he was relaxed enough to almost doze. Hannah took her hand off his arm to turn on some music, something soft and indie, unfamiliar to Jared, but perfect for sleeping to. He slipped under as the sky brightened. 

They stopped twice before ten o’clock. Once for Jared to use the bathroom, and again for Jared to use the bathroom and Hannah to buy coffee. 

“It only gets worse,” she said as they pulled back into the highway. “When I was pregnant with Mark, it’s all I did for the last two months. Pee, cry, and eat.”

“That sounds exciting, I can’t wait,” Jared said, and Hannah laughed. 

“I got lucky, though. Both times.” She glanced over at Jared. “You will too. And your little boy is going to be lucky to have you as a parent.”

Thinking of himself as a parent was still weird for Jared. “I hope so,” he said. Parents should be ready to give hope to their kids. Mostly Jared just felt worn down, alone.

Hannah was looking in the rearview mirror. “Oh, c’mon,” she said, and Jared twisted around to look. There was a dark suburban with a line of red and blue lights flashing at the top of the dash. 

“Seven miles over the limit isn’t speeding, is it?” Hannah asked Jared, laughing and making a face. She pulled onto the narrow gravel shoulder of the road and put the car in park. There was nothing around but empty land, fields and trees. 

“You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now,” Hannah said, fishing in her purse for her wallet. The suburban had parked behind them, lights still going, but no one was getting out.

Hannah sat back with her wallet in her lap. “They’re calling in backup for this crazy, caffeinated driver.”

Jared watched the dark figures inside the car from the rearview mirror. “Highway patrol is a dangerous –”

A second suburban roared up from behind them, slamming to a stop angled over the highway shoulder, blocking Hannah’s car in. Before Jared could move, before he could breathe, the front passenger door opened and the tall, male occupant was out, stalking towards Hannah’s car and oh fuck _oh fuck_ , it was Dekker.

“Hannah!” Jared yelled, and she turned from staring at the suburban to Jared, her eyes wide, mouth open. Looking across her, Jared saw the hips and torso of a man stepping up to Hannah’s window. Jared’s hand flailed for the door lock, but it was already activated.

“Look out!” Hannah grabbed Jared's shoulder, yanking him towards her, and the window next to Jared burst inward. The car locks clicked off and Jared's door was pulled open.

“I’m calling the police,” Hannah screamed. “Let go of him, I'm calling nine-one-one!”

Hands grabbed Jared’s arm, his shoulder, and his seatbelt snapped back when someone released it. He caught the scent of leather and Dekker’s sharp aftershave and slammed an elbow back into the body behind him. It connected solidly, but Dekker barely flinched and Jared’s arm was caught, twisted behind his back and pinned. His knee hit the dash as he was unceremoniously hauled from the car.

Inside the car Hannah was screaming, and immediately Jared’s fear spiked. “Don’t hurt her, don’t fucking hurt her!” he shouted, trying to tear free. Across the roof of the car a man Jared had never seen before regarded him with casual disinterest from underneath the brim of his ball cap. 

“Stop fighting and she’ll be fine,” Dekker said, his breath hot against Jared’s cheek. Arms pinned so tight his shoulders twinged with pain, Jared nearly slipped in the loose gravel when Dekker shoved him towards the suburban. 

“Don’t hurt her,” Jared heard himself saying, again, that one thing of imperative importance. The back door of the suburban opened and Dekker grabbed the waistband of Jared’s jeans, half lifting him to shove him inside. His arms were abruptly let go, too late for Jared to catch himself and his face hit the carpet, teeth biting down on the inside of his mouth. Dekker was climbing in behind him, shoving Jared forward, and then he heard the door slam. Jared scrambled upright as the vehicle lurched, swinging into a dizzying turn. 

The first thing he saw was Jensen. Sitting right in front of Jared, legs spread in a relaxed pose, elbow resting, Jensen was looking out the window as if Jared hadn’t just been dumped at his feet. Shock kept Jared still for a moment, then time righted itself and the vibration of the floor under his knees reminded him, and he pushed up far enough to catch a look out the window.  
He couldn’t see Hannah’s car, but the other suburban was right behind them. She was probably okay, they just wanted him. _Please let her be okay._

The silence – after the yelling, the screaming – was like a physical pressure. Slowly, Jared moved to take a seat next to Jensen. He didn’t really want to get that close; the adrenaline rush was fading away and a sick, nervous chill building in his gut. But kneeling on the floor was worse. 

He didn’t get the choice. Halfway up Jensen moved his foot, knocking Jared back. There was a inherent viciousness to the action that froze Jared where he was, made him horribly aware how exposed he was, how close his pregnant belly was to Jensen’s expensively booted feet.

Jensen turned then, glanced Jared over. He looked totally unconcerned. Bored. 

“So who’s the daddy?”

Jared’s heart slammed against his ribs, every muscle tense, even as he swayed slightly with the movement of the car. 

“I didn’t fuck you enough, you had to go find cock somewhere else?” Jensen gave a brittle laugh. “Jesus fuck, I was right. You really are a whore.”

It took a moment for Jared to realized Jensen was serious, and then Jared was at a total loss. He’d been braced for Jensen to know his secret, not for him to get it wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have exciting news! This fic now has an [official community over on LJ.](http://rlbivob.livejournal.com/) It's where I'm posting the ongoing kink meme fill (raw, unedited) each week. What was previously a huge, messy thread can now be read much more conveniently. However, should you venture over, remember the "final" version is what I'm posting here. 
> 
> Also, readers of the story are posting all kinds of delicious extras, playlists and picspams. Join the members list to get in on the fun!


	10. Waiting Game

“What? Jensen . . .”

“Shut up, Jared,” Jensen said softly. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“You don’t –”

Jensen was quick, so fucking quick. Jared’s sentence cut off in a grunt when Jensen grabbed him by the hair, slammed his head down into the leather seat. Face grinding into the cool upholstery, Jared tasted blood filling his mouth from his bitten cheek. His neck felt like he had whiplash.

“If you’re so determined to use that mouth, I’ve got a few ways we could occupy it.”

There was fear, but more than that, anger. It was unexpected, a kind of crazy high that had Jared shaking and dizzy, lungs clamping down on the air he needed when he tried pry off Jensen’s fingers, tried to shout, “You shithead, it’s your baby! Let go of me, it’s your fucking baby! The fuck do you even know you piece shit I . . .” 

Jared’s breath and coherency ran out at the same time and he just scrabbled in his awkward, bent position till Jensen’s fingers let go. Jared fell back, sitting on his ass, swallowing metallic saliva and panting like he’d run a fucking marathon. Maybe this time he really did hate Jensen, the kind of hate you kill with.

 _Talk now. Talk now, it might be your last chance,_ the functioning part of Jared’s brain urged. “I don’t expect anything. I don’t want anything. I left, you don’t . . . just forget about it, I’m not going to ask for anything from you . . .please.” Jared’s voice sounded hoarse and desperate. Maybe Jensen would decide Jared was too pathetic to bother with. Jared could do pathetic. He could do anything right now if it would work.

Jensen’s eyes lingered somewhere around Jared’s midriff, then turned to the window. “You’re getting better at that. Lying.” His fingers tapped an absentminded rhythm on his thigh. “No one jumps across the whole fucking continent because the guy they’ve been fucking for months shot one past the goalie.”

“I saw what you did to Lorna.” Immediately Jared regretted saying it. Hearing it out loud it almost made Jared sick. It felt like speaking of the dead. _He’s not going to listen to a thing I say. He doesn’t fucking care. He’s going to kill the baby._

Jared's insides were heavy and sick.

Jensen cut his gaze back to Jared. “You wont get anywhere bringing up that gypsy cunt.”

Since becoming pregnant Jared had felt a unwanted kind of solidarity with Lorna, whoever she really was, and hearing Jensen’s words made Jared want to punch him in face. It took him a moment to catch the obvious. Jensen had chased him down because he thought Jared was pregnant with someone else’s kid. He was pissed because he thought Jared had been fucking someone other than him. It made no sense. The guy was totally fucking insane. 

“Sit down and put on a goddamn seatbelt on,” Jensen said. 

Slowly, Jared got up onto the seat, buckled in. Jensen was looking out the window again, like the conversation was concluded, the conflict past, but Jared’s whole body felt jittery like he was standing too close to an electric current. He needed a plan ASAP, but his thoughts just kept circling uselessly. 

After two hours of silence, Jared’s need to piss grew urgent and Jensen had the driver stop at a roadside rest stop. Then, he sent Dekker with Jared to the bathroom. Even if Jared had so much as a second alone, there was no way he could ask for help and involve someone else in his problems. Again.

“Where are you taking me?” Jared asked when the procession was back on the highway. 

Jensen was typing on his phone. “Home, obviously.”

So, New York – unless “home” was some hidden message. Jared wondered if he would be reported missing, now. People knew about him and Jensen, it shouldn’t be that hard to make the connection, right? Unless he was dead. It was hard to imagine Jensen would actually kill him, but Jared couldn’t believe he was safe, either. The possibility was making him sick with nerves. 

When they turned off for Salt Lake City, Jared stomach dropped.

“I thought we were going back . . . to New York?” 

“You have an appointment in,” Jensen turned his wrist to look at his watch, making a show of it, “forty minutes.”

“No,” Jared said.

“You can cooperate on your own, or you can do it pumped full of Xanax. Maybe some Special K.” Jensen raised his voice, “Hey, Dekker, we got any K?” 

One of the guys in the front of the vehicle responded, and Jensen chuckled, teeth white in a smile that creased the edges of his eyes. He looked genuinely amused. 

Jared’s breathing picked up, even as he worked to slow it down, think rationally. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I think I do, Jared. You expect me to take you back with some other fucks bastard in your belly?”

Jared’s fingers were already fumbling with his seatbelt when Jensen’s hand clamped down on his wrist. 

“What are you gonna do, jump out of the car? That’s really fucking smart.”

Jared would rather jump out of a moving vehicle than go through whatever Jensen had planned for him. It had actually come to that. He made it halfway up before Jensen tackled him and then they were in some sort of wrestling match in the back of the suburban. It would have been fucking ridiculous if Jared wasn’t seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, running out of air even as he was gasping it in, his limbs numb and uncoordinated.

“Stop it, stop it right the fuck now,” Jensen hissed. He had Jared face down, arms pinned just like Dekker had them that morning. “You want me to use drugs on you? That’d make things go a whole lot faster. Might not even need a hospital, could just get it done right here.”

Jared opened his mouth to scream, but he had no air. There was a physical pressure that was more than Jensen’s weight. Things turned fuzzy, and the muffled road noise was a roar filling his head. 

Jared didn’t pass out, or at least he didn’t think he did. He stopped moving, and came back lying against something solid and warm.

“ . . . stop?”

“He’s fine,” That was Jensen, his voice close, vibrating against Jared’s body. 

“We’ll call it a night, get everyone settled.” Jared couldn’t place the voice.

“Keep it private,” Jensen said.

When Jared blinked open his eyes, his line of sight had changed. Someone was holding him on his side, their arm under his head. Jensen. Fingers pressed against his neck, over his pulse. 

“You back?”

Jared nodded, pushed away from Jensen, the feel of his hands and the scent of his clothing. Sitting up, Jared’s body felt odd, sluggish. 

“Did you drug me?” he asked.

“No. Do I have to?”

Jared moved to other end of the seat, didn’t answer. Outside the sun was setting, the light golden. They were driving through heavy traffic and every stoplight they hit, Jared looked through the tinted windows at the cars next to them, a scant few feet away, people heading home for the night, going to a night out. 

When he saw the signs for a hospital, Jared had a moment of confusion. He’d been expecting . . . he didn’t know what. Not an actual hospital, with actual people. 

They pulled into a parking lot at one end of the complex, passing rows of cars, taking a space at the end. It was almost night, but still light outside. Was Jensen really going to drag him into some hospital and have them perform an abortion? 

“Calm down, no one is going to hurt you,” Jensen said. 

Someone tapped on the glass, and Dekker, in passenger seat, lowered the window. 

“Wait, this wont take long,” he said to whoever was outside the car. 

Jared wondered, if he screamed right now, would someone hear him? He glanced over at Jensen. Jensen watching him, expression inscrutable. Jared looked away. It was hard to remember this was the guy he thought he loved. 

The suburban rocked with movement and Dekker was coming from the front, a clear plastic bag in one hand. Syringe, tubing, God knew what else – Jared immediately moved to get away, no plan, just action.

“Give me that,” Jensen snapped, and Dekker handed the bag over. 

Jensen looked at Jared. “You can sit still on your own, or I can have someone hold you down.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared’s voice was hoarse, kind of pathetic sounding. He was having visions of life as a strung-out junkie, dependant on Jensen for his next fix, willing to do anything for it.

“Draw a few milliliters of blood.” 

Jared stared at Jensen for along moment, trying to place how that was connected with . . . anything that was going on right now. Everything Jensen did had some hidden motivation.

“Unless you want Dekker doing it. His technique is more slaughter house than bedside manner,” Jensen said as he ripped open a single-pair package of latex gloves, pulled them on. “Give me your arm.”

Jared hesitated, but when Jensen reached for him, he didn’t pull away, just watched as Jensen’s gloved fingers tied a rubber strap around Jared’s upper arm. Jensen cradled Jared’s elbow, thumbs stroking over the tender skin. “Wont even hurt,” he said. 

Jared sat still, didn’t twitch a muscle till the blood started flowing into the plastic tube, and then he looked away, feeling a little queasy. He looked instead at Jensen’s bent head, the spikes of his hair, the stubble over his jaw, the fringe of his eyelashes. 

When Jensen was done, he handed the capped vials across to Dekker, the thumb of his other hand holding a piece of gauze to the crook of Jared’s elbow. Jared’s whole body had broken out into a uneasy sweat and he leaned his head against the back of the seat, shut his eyes. 

The car door opened, then closed. Jensen wrapped something around Jared’s arm. There was the rustle of clothing and the car swayed again. 

“Text me when you get settled in,” Jensen said, and Jared felt something brush over his hair. The car door opened again, slammed shut. The engine started. 

Jared opened his eyes. He was alone in the back of the car, Dekker still in the front passenger seat. Jared turned his head, looking out the window for Jensen, but they were already passing rows of parked cars, and Jensen was nowhere to be seen. 

Jared felt sick, and maybe that was anger and shame under his fear – because of his fear. For all the actions he couldn’t take, _didn’t_ take, and now Jensen was at the center again, controlling Jared’s helpless orbit. _I fucked up, I really fucked up._

The car slowed, came to a stop. The muffed voice of a drive-thru greeting sounded outside the and Jared turned his head. They were in the take-out lane at a _Wendy’s._ The sky was fading to black, but outside lights lit the interior of the suburban. Jared extended his arm and examined the gauze and tape on his arm. The skin underneath was sore when he pressed down.  
Were Jensen’s guys going to take him somewhere, get rid of him? Though that didn’t explain the fast food stop. Maybe that was normal. A hamburger and fries before murder. 

A paper bag landed in Jared’s lap as they pulled back into traffic. The smell of hot fries was unexpectedly appetizing, but Jared deliberately moved the food aside, making a show of ignoring it. Fuck them, he wasn’t going to give Jensen or his lackeys the satisfaction.

He lasted till for a whole ten minuets, till they had pulled up and parked by a dark, empty park. Neither of the men in the front of the car were paying Jared any attention, eating and talking, their conversation making limited sense. 

“How long did he say?”

“Two days, maybe three.” That was Dekker. 

“Guess it’s not our problem. He knows what he’s doing.”

Jared’s stomach growled. His head was starting to ache, something it did now if he didn’t get enough food. He pulled the _Wendy’s_ bag back towards himself, dug out a hamburger.

Someone’s phone buzzed. 

“Mark,” Dekker said. 

“Got it?” the other guy said, the word muffled by a mouth full of food. 

Dekker was entering something into the GPS. The car engine started up and they pulled away from the curb and dim park lights.

Two hamburgers and a large order of fries later, Jared was still hungry. He’d even take another serving of crappy fast food. French fries had never been something he liked, before. Jared crumpled everything back into the paper bag, tossed it across the seat. He couldn’t see where the car GPS was directing them, and there was no more conversation to overhear. He leaned his head against the cool window glass and tried not to think too far ahead. 

At some point Jared drifted off. It wasn't that easy to slip into sleep before the pregnancy, but now he constantly felt sleep deprived. It was the interior light coupled with a wash of cold night air that woke him. He looked around, stiff and chilled. The cargo door on the suburban was open and the front was empty. The passenger door opened and Jared was weirdly relived to see Mark. God, his life was really shitty. 

“C’mon,” Mark said, tilted his head to motion Jared out of the vehicle. 

“Where are we?” Jared asked when he on the ground. The suburban was parked in the driveway of a house overshadowed by a second storey deck. It didn’t look like the kind of place you brought someone to murder them. There were other houses, some lit, and the neighborhood looked nice. Safe.

“Somewhere with TV and hot water.” Mark slammed the car door and waited for Jared to walk ahead of him, practically herding Jared into the house.

Dekker was sitting on a leather couch in small living room area, elbows leaning on knees, suit jacket pulled tight over his shoulders, typing on his phone. 

“Hey, we supposed to be feeding him?” Mark said. 

Dekker didn’t look up. “He’s been fed.”

“I’m still hungry,” Jared said, because why not?

“Jesus Christ,” Mark said without any real heat, and reached for Jared’s arm. It was unexpected, and Jared flinched back on reflex, knocking Mark’s hand away. All the handling he’d had today had been negative. 

Mark let his hand fall, but he was looking at Jared with a unnerving stillness, like a dog assessing a threat. 

“I don’t like being touched,” Jared said, making his tone reasonable, maybe even friendly. Mark was almost as tall as Jared, and easily had forty pounds on him. The tattoos circling his biceps were distorted by the hard muscle. He probably knew a million ways to crush the human skeleton. 

Mark didn’t say anything, just turned and stepped away. The living room, dining room and kitchen of the house shared one open space. Jared stood by the shiny wood dining table and watched Mark move around the kitchen counters, flip on lights, open the refrigerator. The idea that Mark, with his indifference and tattoos, the red, raised scar under his left ear and down his neck that probably had some violent story behind it – he was going to cook dinner for Jared. Or, for Jensen, really. How did an asshole like Jensen get so many people willing to do his dirty work? Jared pulled out a chair and sat, then stood again. His lower back had started bothering him in the past week, and now sitting too much was sending twinges up his spine. It just added to the unpleasantness of the whole situation. 

“Hey,” Jared said, moving to lean on the kitchen counter. Mark ignored him, and Jared didn’t actually know what he wanted to say, so he let the silence stand. _Where’s Jensen? What’s he doing? Why am I here?_

Mark started making sandwiches, peeling roast beef out of a package, slicing cheese right onto the counter top. He didn’t ask Jared for preferences and when he was done with the sandwiches he dropped a bag of Doritos beside the plate and left the kitchen. 

The front door just off the living room area slammed and the guy Jared had seen at Hannah’s car came in carrying a duffle over one shoulder. He was still wearing the baseball cap, and he caught Jared’s stare, meeting Jared’s gaze from across the open space. His eyes were blue as a Husky dog’s. 

“All the bedrooms upstairs?” the guy asked Mark, but he was still looking at Jared. 

“One down here,” Mark said. He was standing in front of the TV, and he turned it on, started flipping through channels.

“I’ll stash this shit upstairs,” the guy said, but he didn’t move, didn’t break his staring contest with Jared. Jared didn’t look away, didn’t want to show he was intimidated, even if he was. He tried to show how unconcerned he was, ripping open the bag of chips and eating a few like he was just there as a recreational observer.

It didn’t get the desired response. Without any other facial movement, the guy winked. It was the most unsettling wink Jared had even received, made his stomach squirm on instinct alone. Jared watched the guy leave the room, and unthinkingly he found himself wishing Jensen would show up, end the waiting. He was just assuming Mark and the others were acting on Jensen’s orders, wouldn’t want to piss off their boss by doing something. But maybe Jensen didn’t care as much as Jared thought. 

Mark had settled in, watching some kind of martial arts match. Jared was more of a hockey or soccer kind of guy when it came to sports, but he left the kitchen and joined Mark on the couch, watching the TV as he ate. If Mark was feeding Jared, he probably wouldn’t let his coworkers kill him. It made sense to stick close.

Somewhere between finishing the food and sliding down into the leather couch’s comfortable depth, time slipped. The next thing Jared knew, Mark was kicking his foot, telling him to get up and go to bed. Jared blinked at the TV, now showing some news program on mute, but couldn’t focus enough to make out the timestamp. 

He yawned and stumbled around the end of the couch, shuffling up the stairs after Mark. Down the hall Mark pushed open a door, flipped on the lights. “You’re here.”

Jared was about to ask where his stuff was, then realized it was in Hannah’s car, and immediately he was piled with guilt and worry, stabbing at him through the hazy of half-sleep. He turned to Mark, but the man was already leaving. 

Jared stood in the doorway for a long moment, waiting for some unidentifiable element that was missing. Weariness won. The bed inside looked comfortable, make up in soft looking sheets and blankets. Sleep would be good. Maybe when he woke up, all the shit would be gone.

Jared made himself move towards the goal, closing the bedroom door, kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his jeans before falling into bed. There are benefits to exhaustion, how it wipes away everything else that hangs heavy on your mind. Jared slept like the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Special K" is slang for the drug Ketamine.
> 
> If you haven't heard, RLBIVOB has an [official community over on LJ.](http://rlbivob.livejournal.com/) Picspams, playlists, reader discussion, and other extras.


	11. Bad For You, Good For Me

Jensen didn’t come back till the second night. In typical Jensen style, he showed up in the middle of the night, like he expected everyone’s schedules to conform to his. Jared was pulled from sleep by light shining across his face. When he lifted his head, there was Jensen, watching him from where he leaned in the doorway, like he was settled in for a good long while. 

Jared had spent the entire day wondering, but not asking for answers, almost afraid he’d get them. Mark cooked breakfast for everyone, and lunch, and then dinner. He was actually good at it, too. The other guy, who Mark called Burny, spent his time watching Jared or playing through a stack of rented games on x-box. Dekker wasn’t around. Apparently he had left some time during the night. 

Jared wandered the house as much as he could without pissing off Mark or getting too close to Burny. It was fully furnished, down to towels and silverware, and when he went out on the upstairs deck, he could see the neighborhood looked like a gated community, without the sounds of city traffic. There were distant mountains behind the houses and he wondered how far away from Salt Lake City they were.

There was also a hot tub on the deck. Jared considered it for a moment, then went back to the master bath and took a long, hot shower. The lack of clean clothes was a problem. 

He tried not to worry, or think about Jensen, which had become synonymous. So of course Jensen appeared right when Jared wasn’t ready. 

Jared rolled over, sat up, felt a sense of deja vu. Another night waking up to Jensen standing in his doorway, another ache in his arm. Back when things had been simple. And wasn’t that funny to think. 

Jensen looked tired, his eyes dark, stubble growing into an actual beard. Jared couldn’t read his expression. When Jensen pushed away from the door, started towards the bed, Jared tensed involuntarily. Even if he could get past Jensen, there was no way he could get out of the house without someone stopping him, but when Jensen reached into his jacket Jared was about to make a break anyway. It’s was pure instinct, not reason. 

What Jensen pulled out was paper, folded lengthwise. He dropped it in Jared’s lap, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed with his back towards Jared. 

Going from dead sleep to freaking the fuck out had Jared’s body acting like it was hyped up on straight espresso spiked with energy drink. His hand shook as he unfolded the paper, glanced them over. All he really needed to read was the logo at the top, _Paternity Express_. He scanned to the bottom anyway, past the columns of numbers that he didn’t understand, down to the helpful interpretation. _Probability of paternity: 99.9996%_

Jared had never been so relived. He’d never hated Jensen more. He crumpled the paper in his shaking hands, crushed it into a ball and lobbed it at the open door. It was a good shot, and it sailed out to disappear down the hall. 

Jared wanted to say something – God, he wanted to say so many things, he couldn’t choose one, and everything crowed into his throat and nothing came out. He lay back down, as far on the opposite side of the bed as he could, his back to Jensen. Maybe if he closed his eyes, Jensen would be gone when he opened them. 

The silence was long and heavy. Jared heard the _snick_ of Jensen’s lighter and the scent of cigarette smoke followed. It just made him angrier. Smoke wasn’t good for pregnant people. Running the all over the country and not taking vitamins and stressing the fuck out over psychotic shitheads wasn’t good for pregnant people. Jared moved his hand down under the bed covers, cradling the swell of his stomach. The baby had kept its schedule of nighttime movement, but it was still so faint, Jared sometime hardly noticed. 

“Why’d you run away?”

Jensen’s voice startled Jared. It was tired and raw sounding. Lack of sleep or smoke, probably both.

“I knew you were pregnant. You knew the kid was mine. Why’d you run?”

Jared stared at the wall. Jensen had known. And hadn’t done anything. How long had he known? “When did you know?” 

Jared could hear Jensen’s inhale, drawing smoke into his lungs. It was heavy in the room now, and Jared pulled the sheet up over his mouth and nose. 

“That night I came by your apartment, ‘bout a week before you ran off.”

Right, the night he broke in and was waiting for Jared like some serial killer. “How?” 

“I searched it before you got home. You used a whole fucking drugstore worth of tests,” Jensen said, a smile in his voice.

Jared pulled the sheet away, sat up, staring at Jensen’s back. “You searched my place, went through my garbage?” If that didn’t scream crazy, nothing did. 

Jensen crossed one leg over his knee, snubbing out his cigarette on the sole of his boot. “You were acting dodgy.”

_Jared_ was acting dodgy? That was Jensen’s whole fucking existence. “Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

Jensen turned, eyes tracing over Jared’s bare skin. “Was waiting for you tell me.”

Jared stared, speechless in the face of Jensen’s calm explanations, like this behavior was normal, like Jared was the one going around doing crazy shit. But Jensen was honestly confused by Jared’s actions. He had no fucking clue. _Oh my god, he’s really insane,_ Jared thought. 

Jensen reached out, took the bed sheet between two fingers and gently tugged it down, exposing more of Jared’s torso, his growing belly. “So why’d you run off on me?”

Jared had punched someone exactly twice in his life, and the first time hardly counted because he’d been five. When he launched his fist at Jensen, the blow snapped Jensen’s head to the side, but as much as it hurt Jensen, Jared was pretty sure it hurt him more, pain lancing sharp through his hand and wrist. 

Jensen was turned away, his cursing muffled by the hand over his nose and mouth and when he took it away, it was smeared red with blood. He sat up straight and looked at Jared. “If anyone else had done that, I’d probably kill them. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jared cradled his hand to his chest – and goddammit, it hurt – but despite the pain, and Jensen’s probably honest threat, Jared felt a maniacal grin stretching his mouth. There was something very freeing about doing violence against an object of fear. It was actually giving him a kind of high. “Nothing’s wrong with me,” Jared said. He was perfectly fine, and he was going to be even better once he’d left Jensen behind for good. He’d just punched the guy in the face, and it felt awesome.

Jensen looked at him, face expressionless. There was a red bruise coming in under his eye, and when a slow trickle of blood ran down over his upper lip, he licked it away. Jared kind of hoped he’d broken Jensen’s nose, especially when another twinge of pain lanced through his wrist. He couldn’t hold back his noise of discomfort. 

“Jesus Christ, did you break your fucking hand?” Jensen moved closer, reaching for Jared’s arm, and Jared couldn’t move back, he was already against the headboard. Jensen’s fingers worked over Jared’s hand, pressed against his wrist. 

“Fuck, stop it!” Jared gasped. Tried not a shout. The too-familiar feeling of nausea curled up his throat.

“That’s broken.” Jensen’s voice was kind of nasal, but Jared couldn’t even take comfort in that. 

Somehow he found himself being helped by Jensen into clothes that weren’t his, escorted downstairs and into the suburban. Jensen followed him into the back seat, molding an instant cold pack between his hands.

“They’re gonna think you abuse me, you know,” Jensen said. His face was swelling, but he handed the cold pack to Jared. “Hold that on.”

The cold almost felt worse, but Jared left it on. “If I was abusing you, I’d know how to punch without busting up my own hand.”

It was quiet inside the car as they left behind the lit houses. Jensen looked over at Jared, just he edges of him light by the faint dash lights. “I guess I’ll have to teach you.”

Jared didn’t answer, didn’t even know what he wanted to say to that, for everything it implied and took for granted.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

It was mid-morning before they left the hospital, Jared’s right hand in a cast. The pain was barely dulled by a dose of Tylenol the nurse had given him. Apparently literally every drug ever made was unsafe to give pregnant people. The nurse had laughed in an entirely unsympathetic manner and suggested arnica. Jensen hadn’t let anyone look at his bruised face at all. Driving back to the house, Jared dozed, caught between discomfort and exhaustion. As soon as he was through the door he wandered over to the couch and lay down, just to rest for a few minuets, and woke with a dry mouth and pounding head to someone shaking him.

“You can sleep in the car,” Jensen said, letting go when Jared started moving. By the time he made it upright, Jensen was gone. Jared’s neck was stiff, his hand throbbed and he had an urgent need to piss. He worked his jaw a few times and his stomach added its own complaint.

“Fuck,” Jared croaked and stumbled towards the bathroom to take care of business. When he came out, Jensen was standing in the dining area frowning at his phone.

“Food?” Jared said, not up to complete sentences yet. Jensen flicked his thumb across his phone screen, but Jared caught a flash of a picture, his own face staring back at him. 

“What’s that?” 

Jensen looked at him, expressionless, and Jared looked back searching for some tell. Finally, Jensen broke the stare, looking back down at his phone. He tapped a few times and then flipped the phone, offering it to Jared. 

The picture was from his driver’s license. Above the photo physical information it read “Idaho Missing Persons Clearinghouse”. For a long moment Jared stared at it, feeling nothing. Hannah had reported it. Someone had probably called his family by now. 

When Jared looked up, Jensen was watching him. For a second Jared considered dialing up 911 right then, with Jensen’s phone. Calling anyone. Things he _could_ do, maybe should do, not things he really wanted to do. 

The thought came, then. “Did you give the hospital my real name?”

Jensen crossed his arms, rubbed a hand over his jaw, skin scraping against heavy stubble. “Used my name. Last name.”

Jared considered this through the uncomfortable feeling of seeing himself listed in “endangered” records; like the names that had missing dates from before Jared was born, a ghost, gone forever, and no one ever knows where. 

Jared Ackles. 

Jared set the phone on the counter. “I had to get rid of my phone,” he said, not sure why it was important now, but it was. 

“We can get you one later,” Jensen said, the issue hardly considered, resolved. 

Jared’s hand ached, his stomach felt sickeningly empty. He didn’t want to think about people worrying about him, or all the things he’d have to explain, later. Didn’t want to think about what he would do, when or how. 

“I need food.” Everything Jared said now seemed to be couched as a request or demand, and as he frowned at Jensen’s phone sitting on the marble counter top, it suddenly made him annoyed.

“And I’m supposed to be taking vitamins and a bunch of other shit for the baby, which I haven’t been because I can’t even get a doctor’s appointment and I’m not eating enough so I’m underweight so that’s another fuck up and if I hadn’t been so worried about all this shit,” Jared was yelling now, “I might have done a better job of not screwing up my kid before he’s even born!”

There was a long moment of silence following Jared’s yelling. Jensen eyebrows quirked. “Okay, so I got that the kid’s a he.”

“Fuck you,” Jared said. He might feel stupid later, but there was something very cathartic about losing his shit and not giving a shit. 

Jensen’s eyes moved, looking behind Jared, and when Jared turned Mark was there. He didn’t pay any attention to Jared, but to Jensen he said, “We’re set.”

Jensen swiped his phone off the counter, looked at Jared. “We’ll stop for food on the way out.”

It was half of what he wanted, so Jared didn’t object, followed Jensen out to the garage. It was a new kind of self-determination, moving within the force instead of against it. Jared wasn’t sure if it was growing up and getting smarter, or giving in. 

The second suburban had disappeared along with Dekker. Burny rode in the front passenger seat, Mark drove. It was eight hours to Denver where ten miserable days still lay fresh and raw. Jared had spent so much time cars the past few weeks he felt his body was growing into the shape of a car seat. He slept for the last few hours of the drive and woke in the evening with everything hurting. His hand throbbed, his back ached, his calves were seizing up with cramps. All he wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed, not five hours on a plane. Because apparently they were flying back. Because obviously Jensen had access to a private jet. Fuck that.

“If we don’t stop somewhere I’m going to die or kill myself.” 

Overly dramatic or not, it worked. Forty minutes later Jared had a hotel room. He wrapped his cast in plastic and tape and took a thirty minute shower, ate half a large pizza, and fell into bed naked. The last thing he saw was Jensen silhouetted against the daylight through the open balcony doors, smoke curling from his cigarette. The sheets soft and cool on his skin, the floaty feeling of exhausted half-sleep pulling him under, Jared felt stupidly grateful. It was misplaced, and worse, completely honest.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

When Jared woke up five hours later there was a pile of new clothes waiting for him, along with a pharmacy bag that was like a prenatal gift basket.

“Did you just buy one of everything?”

Jensen was sitting on the bed, dressed only in pants, shirtless and barefoot, his hair wet from a shower Jared had slept through. “Mark. So, probably.”

Jared broke the seal on a bottle of multi vitamins and unscrewed the cap, swallowed one down, watched the muscles move under Jensen’s skin as he pulled on a skirt. The bruising under his eye and across his cheekbone was ugly dark, but the swelling was gone. It was a weird thought, but Jared thought it might suit him. Some people looked vulnerable under an injury. Jensen looked wild. Feral. And it was halfway to turning Jared on. 

He looked away. Nothing had really changed from two weeks ago when Jared was running. All his reasons were still legitimate. Why did all the best things in his life have to be the worst things, too?

For everything Mark had bought, there was a conspicuous lack of replacement cell phone.

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

They didn’t go back to New York. They landed in a New Jersey airport. The car that picked them up took them along Palisades interstate, not heading for Jensen’s penthouse, not crossing the river. Jared wasn’t really surprised. It still made him tense and jumpy, the uncertainty rising again to mix with the nausea that had plagued him for the entire flight. They hadn’t really talked, and Jensen hadn’t brought up Jared’s status as a missing person again, or what he was going to do about it. If he would stop Jared from doing something on his own. So Jared tried to ignore the word “kidnaped”, like staying of his own free will changed anything. As much as he needed to know if he could leave, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to leave.

When they were passing more trees than massive, secluded houses with gated drives, and Jared’s mind was filling with thoughts of bodies in the woods and heads with bullets holes, he asked, “Where’re we going?” God, he hated that question, all the times he’d asked it.

“One of the family’s properties.”

Jared’s heart picked up, his whole system winding tight. _Family_ immediately made Jared think McNulty, and he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing. Was there some kind of trial or test or something Jared was going to have to face? No, that didn’t make any sense, that was Hollywood shit.

Most of the last week had been Hollywood shit. 

“You mean the McNultys?”

The car slowed and turned up a curving, tree-lined drive, slowed again to wait for classical wrought iron gates to swing open.

“You wont have to meet anyone tonight.”

Jared’s pulse was still hammering away. “Why do I have to meet them at all?” 

Jensen looked at him. The evening sunlight slanting through the window lit one half of his face, shadowing the line of his lower lip. Something was bothering Jensen, Jared thought, a problem he would be planning for, and Jared knew, just knew it had something to do with him. 

“Wont take long,” Jensen said, sounding unconcerned. “Breakfast. Then we’ll go unveil you to the police. Buy you some clothes that actually fit.”

There was a reason they weren’t going tonight, right now. Why they hadn’t done it yesterday, or the day before. Whatever Jensen needed done before Jared could go to the police had to do with the McNultys and Jared felt sick thinking about it now. 

The car pulled into a courtyard, circling the massive fountain in the middle to stop at the front doors of the massive house. 

“Jensen,” Jared said. 

Jensen glanced back, the car door already open. “Trust me,” he said softly. Actually sounded sincere. 

“I don’t,” Jared said, honestly. He could trust Jensen to follow his own plan or act in his own interest, but Jared had no idea what that was. Couldn’t predict it. The more time he spent with Jensen, the less he really knew him. 

Jensen’s lips quirked in a brief smile. He stood, turning back to lean into the car. “We do it my way for now. You can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

Which was as good as saying “if you try to leave before I let you, I’ll turn into a fucking psycho and chain you to the bed”. 

Jared followed Jensen up the steps. The exterior of the house – small castle, but details – was stone, the porch that lead to dark wood doors flanked with columns. It wasn’t a place Jared could imagine real life taking place in. Across the massive foyer a woman in a killer pantsuit was walking towards them, her heels ringing loudly on the floor. 

She caught Jared’s look, smiled a brief, professional greeting. To Jensen she said, “You’re early, I just caught you driving in. The south bedroom is open for you. Can Andie expect you both at dinner?”

“Just me,” Jensen said. “Have something sent up to my room for . . . Jared.” There was an odd hitch, a hesitation like Jensen meant to say something else. 

The pantsuit woman disappeared out the front door and Jensen started towards the stairs leading up from the foyer.

“Who was that? Who’s Andie?” Jared kept his voice down, even though there didn’t seem to be else anyone around. 

“Andrea. McNulty. Eve is her personal assistant.”

And she had looked so trustworthy and sane.


	12. Crazy In Lust

The bedroom Jensen led Jared to was massive. Jared wandered over to the windows on one side, overlooking a long green lawn with a rectangle of bright blue swimming pool at the far end. Jared would be willing to bet was Olympic size. It glittered in the evening light, backed by a pool house. There were more buildings behind it, and what might have been a tennis court. 

Jared felt Jensen close behind him before Jensen’s hands settled on his hips, fingers working up under Jared’s shirt.

“Thought you were expected at dinner,” Jared said, even as excitement stirred under his skin. Jensen’s breath was warm against his neck, and Jared held himself still, waiting for the feel of lips and teeth, wishing for it. 

“Not for hours. Got time for all kinds of things.” Jensen’s nose bumped Jared’s jaw, stubble rough against Jared’s skin, and when his teeth pressed down on, Jared’s whole body jerked, an involuntary spasm, lust settling heavy in his stomach. 

Every goddamn time. 

Jared turned, getting a good look at Jensen’s face. His eyes were lit bright green in the light from the windows, with a look Jared could read, simple lust. He watched it till Jensen leaned in and kissed him, unexpectedly gentle. Too gentle, somehow unsatisfying. Jared grabbed Jensen’s head, pulling him back in for a hard kiss, something to steal breath with. 

The doorbell rang. 

The room had a fucking doorbell, what kind of room had a doorbell? Jared stared as Jensen pulled away, his lips wet, eye hooded. “Stay here,” he said.

Jared licked his lips, watched Jensen cross the bedroom. Jared was still half hard in his jeans, but back in the present moment he was now acutely aware how gross he was under his clothes, sticky and travel-worn. Jensen was holding the bedroom door open for a guy to roll in a serving cart, and Jared went to find the bathroom. 

It was nearly the size of Jared’s apartment, with a huge sunken tub and . . . a fireplace set back in the wall. Jared stared at it for a moment, then turned to the shower, which looked big enough for a football team. Jared turned that mental image over a bit as he kicked off his shoes, stripped off his shirt, catching sight of his torso in the endless mirror. He hadn’t looked at himself in fill length mirror since before the baby had become a thing. A real, lasting thing. It was weird. Not really bad weird, but definitely weird. 

Jared tied to suck in him stomach . . . yeah, not happening. The new shape was there to stay. He sighed, pushed his hair off his forehead, tried to run his fingers through it and grimaced at the catch and pull of knots. He hadn’t had a haircut in months, it was getting longer than he liked it. 

Movement form the bathroom door opening caught in the corner of the mirror. Jensen was already unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as he walked up behind Jared, and Jared watched in the reflection till the whole thing came off. 

Jensen tossed his shirt towards a padded bench and stepped in front of Jared, hands going straight for the buttons on Jared’s jeans. Jared stood still and let him, tried to watch around the expansion of his stomach. It would have been much hotter if Jared could have seen more. 

Jensen slid Jared’s jeans and boxers off his hips, dropping them to the floor. He pushed Jared back, forcing him to step out of them. Cool air washed over Jared’s groin. Ever nerve in his body was awake and getting in the game. Jensen wasn’t looking at Jared, he was watching his own hands heavy against Jared’s ribs. His fingers slid up, thumbs brushing over Jared’s nipples as he walked Jared backwards. Each caress sent shivers vibrating under Jared’s skin, running to his thickening dick.

Jensen moved Jared into the shower, back against the wall. Cold tile pressed the length of Jared’s naked body and he arched away, made some kind of noise. Jensen laughed low. 

“Hang on.”

Jensen kept one hand on Jared’s side, thumb stroking in circles that had the shivers building under Jared’s skin as Jensen fiddled with the space controls that operated the shower. There were about a million showerheads on both sides, and when the warm spray hit, it was like a massage from a million tiny . . . somethings. Sex made his metaphor game weak. 

Jared hooked the fingers of his left in the waistband of Jensen’s pants, trying to pull him back in close, maybe work the buttons open. Yeah, both. 

Jensen leaned Jared back against the shower wall, the fabric of his pants rubbing against Jared’s thighs, trapping Jared’s hand between their bodies. Jensen had one arm braced against the wall beside Jared’s head while the other hand thumbed over Jared’s lower lip, stroking it, wet with shower spray. Neither of them said anything, and Jared watched water droplets gather on Jensen’s lashes, his hair turn dark. It was strange, completely unlike their usual pattern, had Jared keyed up without giving him any satisfaction. 

“Jensen, c’mon.” Jared worked his fingers against Jensen’s hip, feeling for the belt buckle.

Jensen’s hand cupped Jared’s jaw, slid up into his hair, catching hard in the tangled, wet mess, yanking Jared down into a harsh kiss. 

_God, yes._ Jared’s back slid on the wet tile. Jensen’s teeth came down hard on his lip and Jared bucked his hips into Jensen’s solid body, his erection scraping against leather and soaked fabric, slipping over Jensen’s silky, wet skin.

“Oh fuck,” Jared grasped against Jensen’s neck. Warm wet skin, the fading scent of cologne and sweat. “Fuck me, right now.”

Jensen’s fingers clenched tight, pulling Jared’s hair to a sharp sting. The hard line of his cock rubbed against Jared’s hip and the shoulder under Jared’s cheek flexed as Jensen turned, searching the shower for something. 

“Fuck,” Jensen rasped, and pushed Jared back against the shower wall, all warm slick tile now. Jared turned his head, hands moving with free access to his cock, stroking with a tight fist. Jensen was somewhere, yanking open bathroom drawers. Jared’s wrist bumped across his protruding belly, a reminder he didn’t want.

And he’d ruined his cast, goddammit. 

Jensen was back, lube in one hand, the other yanking his belt loose, eyes roving over Jared’s naked body. Jared’s brain skipped right over everything else to land on the sight of Jensen, all wet skin and soaked pants, fabric clinging to his thighs, sculpting to the bulge of his cock. Jared shuddered, gripped the base of his penis hard as arousal rolled through him. 

Jensen hitched Jared’s leg up over his hip, wet fingers slipping behind Jared’s balls. Jensen’s mouth was hot against Jared’s neck, making sounds like words, nothing Jared could understand, just the vibration of Jensen’s voice against his skin. Jensen’s finger’s stroked inside him, firm and steady and Jared arched his back, hooked his leg, digging his heel into dip of Jensen’s back. 

“Jensen,” he moaned, and had more to say, but lost it, turned to incoherent noises. The fall of the shower blurred his vision, a kind of whiteout where only sensation and sound existed. 

Jensen’s fingers pulled out, then his knuckles rubbed over Jared’s belly. Jared tried to drop his leg, get enough room to watch, see Jensen’s heavy cock coming out of his pants, the gold barbell all wet and shiny against pink skin . . .

Jensen’s fingers clamped down on Jared’s thigh, keeping his leg in place, and then his other hand was under Jared’s ass, lifting him, back braced against the shower wall. Jared grabbed for Jensen’s shoulders, forgetting his hand and knocking his ruined cast against hard muscle. 

“C’mon,” Jensen gasped, and Jared lifted his ass, slipping on wet skin, wet tile, his cock riding the ridges of Jensen’s tense abs. The head of Jensen’s cock slid over Jared’s asshole, then pressed in, stretching so perfect; Jared dropped his forehead to Jensen’s shoulder, panting through the penetration, his body clenching and releasing, even as he fought to relax. Jensen’s finger’s dug into Jared’s ass, his hip, pulling him down onto Jensen’s cock, holding him up. The knobs of Jensen’s piercing left a track of pressure inside Jared, so hot, so fucking good. God, he needed some release. His cock was heavy and leaking, pressed between their bodies and Jared’s teeth clamped onto Jensen’s shoulder, the feel of biting down unexpected, the taste of wet skin against his tongue as Jensen fucked deep into him. 

Jensen grunted, shoved Jared hard into the shower wall. “Fuck, Jared, fucking . . . you . . .”

Jared moaned, opened his jaw, mouth slack against Jensen’s skin, and then Jensen’s hand was in Jared’s hair, pulling his head up. Jared’s right leg was still hooked over Jensen’s arm and he braced against the shower wall, angling to take Jensen’s thrusts hard and deep, seeking Jensen’s hot mouth.

Biting, panting, water running into open mouths, Jared came with his cock grinding against Jensen’s stomach. The orgasm rocked through his body in long, hard waves.

By the time they left the shower, Jared was barely standing. After the warmth of the bathroom the bedroom air was cold on his wet skin and when Jensen dumped him on the bed Jared immediately reached for the covers. Jensen was moving his casted arm, wrapping a towel around it. It was uncomfortable, the inside of the cast wet, the whole thing too heavy. 

“Now I need’a new one,” Jared said. 

Jensen smiled, the briefest curve of lips, flash of teeth. In the fading evening light his skin was golden, still damp and glistening. “You ruin everything I give you,” he said, obviously joking, but Jared’s immediate thought was _baby._ and he covered it over with others; the baby was fine, it was totally fine, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way. 

Jensen tucked Jared’s arm under the covers, pulled them up like he was tucking in a little kid. Still naked, he strolled over to the sitting area where couches and low tables were grouped under the window. Jared watched through half-closed eyes as Jensen spun the middle panel of a short cabinet to bring out a turntable with glasses and vaguely alcoholic-looking bottles. Jared studied the curve of Jensen’s ass and muscular thighs, the dip of his back as he bent over for a glass, set it on the cabinet top. 

Jensen uncapped a bottle and poured a glass of something, took a swallow, throat working in a smooth roll. There was a faint red mark high on his shoulder where Jared had bit him and it made something in Jared’s stomach curl tight, a kind of excitement that was more than libido.

“You going to eat or sleep?” Jensen asked without looking at Jared.

Jared sighed into the pillow. He was hungry, but he really, really didn’t want to move. “Don’t want to move.”

Jensen crossed the room, out of Jared’s sight.“They’re not bringing up more food if this shit goes bad.” 

Jared wondered how soon before it was inedible. He’d get up in a minute. 

Jared lay, warm and mostly comfortable, sleep floating just under the surface. He drifted, and was brought back to Jensen standing over the bed as he fastened cufflinks on his crisp white shirt. His vest was unbuttoned and a tie draped around his neck.

“You going?” Jared mumbled. 

“Yeah.”

 _You coming back?_ a needy voice in Jared’s head asked. He sat up, his damp cast heavy, his hand aching. Jensen moved to catch a reflection in the mirror and started knotting his tie. There were lamps on, and the light from the windows was nearly gone.

“What’s the dinner for?”

Jensen adjusted his tie as he turned towards Jared. He looked like a model for men’s fashion. “Planning a wake.”

Jared tightened his jaw against a yawn. With the lost hours and half-light, the conversation had a dreamlike quality. “Like a funeral? Who died?” The moment the words left his mouth, Jared realized he might not want to know the answer to the question. 

“No one yet,” Jensen said, and then his mouth pulled into a tilted grin. “You’re fucking face,” he laughed, and Jared knew he’d let his reaction show. It wasn’t funny, but Jensen’s smile was like a counteragent to everything bad, drawing out Jared’s unease.

Jensen lifted his suit jacket from the back of a chair, shrugging it on. “Eat something,” he said, and left. Jared watched Jensen’s shoulders under the perfect fit of his suit as he crossed the room, and then the door was closing behind him. For a long moment Jared tried to decide if Jensen had been joking, or is he really had made a reference to murder. 

Jared shook it off. He crawled out of bed and found clothes to dress in. Someone had brought up Jared’s stuff, putting it away in the walk-in closet. Not that it was actually his. For a second he wondered what Hannah had done with everything he’d left behind in her car. Maybe the police had it now.

Someone had also left Jensen’s things in the same closet. 

The serving cart of food was still by the door, complete with stacked table settings and a bottle of Evian water. Jared popped the top on the food containers and found lukewarm roasted vegetables, chocolate cake and sandwiches he was pretty sure had spinach and possibly figs in-between the ham and melted cheese. Whatever is was, it smelled fucking delicious, and Jared’s stomach was painfully empty. He carried it all over the sitting area and found the remote for the huge TV mounted in the wall. He ate way too fast as he flipped through channels, finally settling on a rerun of NCIS, then abandoning it five minuets later to wander around the room, opening drawers and looking out the windows. Without Jensen the space felt completely foreign, isolated from anything Jared knew.

When it was past ten o’clock and Jensen hadn’t come back, Jared lay down to wait. When it got too cold lying on top of the covers, he crawled underneath them. His hand ached in constant reminder and he debated taking some Tylenol. Decided against it. Reminded himself he needed to find a doctor, an obstetrician. 

Sometime during the night Jared woke up tense and disoriented, the echo of something ringing in his head. The room was still lit, he was still alone. He lay, listening for a long time, but there was nothing to hear. Eventually he fell back asleep. The next time he woke the room was grey with morning light, and Jensen was in bed next to him, breathing slow and deep in sleep. 

Jared took in every detail like it could reveal all of Jensen to him. The bruises on Jensen’s face were turning pale, sickly colors. His eyes moved beneath closed lids, lashes flickering, and he sighed in his sleep, rolling towards Jared, tugging the bed sheet low over his hips. Jared’s gaze followed it down, arousal warming under his skin. 

That little voice of conscience and caution told him he was fucked up. Even the memory of his recent fear wasn’t enough to put him off, and each time he swung back he found himself in deeper. It wasn’t a comfortable thought, made something deep in Jared ache like a second broken bone. But there was Jensen, naked and loose with sleep. The choice hardly needed to be made, and Jared moved in close, sliding down the bed till his head was at hip level to Jensen. He wanted to take every liberty, and the bruises on Jensen’s face were like an encouragement. 

Jared pulled the sheet down over Jensen’s splayed thighs. The morning light left everything in grey, shadowing hip and groin and that fucking beautiful cock. Jared didn’t exactly have a good experience his first time giving head, but the memory of Jensen’s hard body and smooth skin where his clothes were pushed away, the heavy girth of his cock, the contrast of hard metal and soft skin had a prominent place in Jared’s mind. It’s what had his stomach tight with anticipation as he nuzzled Jensen’s cock, pulled back the hood of the foreskin that hid the gold knob at the slit.

Jensen groaned and shifted when Jared pushed his tongue against the underside of the head, slipping over metal, pressing into silky skin. This is what he’d wanted, this memory back. 

Jensen’s hands came down, fingertips running over Jared’s jaw, stroking over the corner of his mouth. “God, fuck,” Jensen said, voice deep and rough. 

Jared shivered, shifted to push his hips into the mattress, opened his mouth and moved down over Jensen’s cock. Jensen’s hands cradled Jared’s head but didn’t grip, let Jared move on his own, let him pull off to suck spit and pre-come from the gold jewelry. 

After ten minutes of slow sucking and licking, Jared was panting for breath and shoving his hips hard into the soft sheets, more worked up than Jensen seemed to be. But under Jared’s palm, the muscles of Jensen’s stomach were rock hard, tensing and jumping.

Jared pulled off again, wet and messy, breathing heavily against Jensen’s hard, wet cock and Jensen’s made a noise. His thumbs hooked under Jared’s jaw, and Jared was sliding over the sheets, pulled up the bed by Jensen’s grip on his head. 

Jared gasped and thrashed, startled, weirdly excited by the roughness. He rolled over on his back, and Jensen moved to kneeling, swinging one leg over the straddle Jared’s head, pushing his cock down to rest against Jared’s lips. 

Lust was heavy and hot in Jared’s groin, Jensen above him with sleep-messy hair, lashes lowered, watching Jared. Jared grabbed at Jense’s thighs, opened his mouth, let Jensen guide his cock in, take control. 

It was hard to remember later, but that was probably when Jared made up his mind to lie to the police. The unglamourous truth was, most of Jared’s big life decisions were in some way related to sex. It was like Jensen had triggered the start of an evolution in him, and sometimes it scared Jared to think about where it would end.

After, after Jensen came in Jared’s mouth, then pulled Jared over on top of him to came rutting against Jensen hip; after Jensen wiped them both off with the sheet, Jensen asked, “You coming home with me?”

It took Jared’s sluggish post-coital brain a moment to get what Jensen was asking. And then he realized the thing he hadn’t had time to think about yet: he had no where to go. He might be able to get his apartment back, but he had no job to keep it. Plus, there was the whole problem if being missing . . .

And _then_ Jared realized what Jensen was really asking. Would he be coming back after he went to the police. Would he tell the police the truth and implicate Jensen or lie and go home with him.

“You have to stop smoking around me,” Jared said. 

Jensen twisted to look at Jared, eyebrows arched in question. 

“If I’m living with you. Smoke’s bad for the baby.” Jared’s stomach tightened. He was really doing this. He was _always_ going to do this. Goddammit, what had Jensen done to him. 

“Yeah, alright,” Jensen said, casually, and rolled over to climb off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know about it yet, this fic has an [official community over on LJ.](http://rlbivob.livejournal.com/) There are _gorgeous_ picspams and icons, playlists, and original art to go with the story. Also, on May 6th I'm taking reader questions, so if you have something you've wanted to ask me, come on over and ask!


	13. Welcome to the Family

They had breakfast with the family. 

Not all blood related, as Jensen told Jared, standing wrapped in a damp towel, watching the morning news with the volume down. 

“Close friends, that kind of thing.”

“Is someone really dead?”

“In a coma. Doctors say maybe a day,” Jensen didn’t take his eyes off the TV. 

Jared felt ready to go back to sleep, except that he was hungry and needed to shower before he could get food. He slumped against the leather couch and watched Jensen watching the morning news.

“Sorry,” Jared said, even though Jensen didn’t seem at all upset. “He’s a friend?”

“Yeah, I’ve known Jamie for years,” Jensen said distractedly, frowning at something on the TV. The image beside the news anchor was showing an airport somewhere, but Jared didn’t catch the story. 

“What happened?” Jared asked.

Jensen turned off the TV, looked over at Jared, gaze lingering. “Cancer,” he finally said. “His doctors said six months, the bastard made it almost two years.”

“Isn’t this a bad time for me to meet them? With someone dying.”

Jensen stripped off his towel, letting it all hang out as he scrubbed the cloth over his wet hair. “Good time for getting shit straightened out. No one’s stopping their lives to grieve.”

Jared yawned, moved his sluggish limbs in preparation for standing. “So the introductions are because we’re . . .” _Doing whatever it is we’re doing._ Because of the baby?” It felt weird saying “baby” to Jensen, after all the time he shied away from even letting the two inhabit the same thought.

“If you’re keeping it, yeah.”

Jared blinked, not sure if Jensen was fucking with him. “Why the hell wouldn’t I? Why does that matter?”

Jensen threw his towel in the couch, ran a hand over his hair. “Don’t worry about it. You’re fine, they know that, just had to be talked about. Wasn’t the only thing on the agenda.”

The cold, uneasy feeling was back. “What if I hadn’t been fine?” 

Jensen looked at Jared’s face, then grinned. “What are you thinking, I’d set you on fire, maybe throw you in the river? Calm down.” He reached down, caught Jared’s arm, pulled him to standing, crowded in. 

“Raising a kid is a life sentence. That pretty much makes you part of the family. Someone in the family has a problem, it affects everyone.”

“So you . . . ”

Jensen pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes trained on Jared’s mouth. Without looking up, he said, “I already knew you weren’t a problem.”

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

The mansion had a breakfast room. One room, just for breakfast. For some reason it was funny - and in a funny way, pretentious - to Jared and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing.

A guy and a girl with matching shirts, some kind of uniform, were working with food at the endless table. The whole room smelled like coffee with the undertone of butter and vanilla and Jared’s stomach did an excited, hungry flip. He’d always liked food, but pregnancy was turning it into an obsession. 

“Let me introduce you before you go make love to the waffles,” Jensen said. 

“Shut up,” Jared said, even as he tried to locate the waffles on the cluttered breakfast spread.

There were french doors that opened to the back of the house, looking over the same huge lawn Jared saw from the bedroom window. Just outside two women were standing with their backs to the inside of the room. Jared recognized Eve, her blonde head bent close to the other woman’s dark hair, a sharp contrast.

“ . . . if she majors in drinking. That was me.”

The conversation became audible as Jensen and Jared got closer, and with the change of angle Jared saw there were other people seated in chairs on the huge stone-railed terrace, and a girl who looked about Jared’s age leaning against a table that held coffee service. 

“Yeah, but I cared about my GPA,” she said, then caught Jared and Jensen’s approach, glancing them over, her curious gaze lingering on Jared.

“Hey,” Jensen said, and the dark-hair women next to Eve turned, immediately moving in to hug Jensen, a casual greeting.

“Michael’s going down to say goodbye, later,” she said, still standing close. 

Jensen nodded. Then said, “Andrea, this is Jared. Jared, Andrea McNulty.”

Andrea’s bright eyes turned to Jared, her lips curving into a smile. “Jared,” she said, drawing out the vowel slightly. “Welcome.” She moved in for a hug and for a second Jared froze, the smell of perfume strong, her body heat against his skin, then hugged back. Very lightly. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jared said as Andrea moved back.

“She’s already taken the title of Princess around here,” Jensen said. “If you want it, you’ll have to fight her for it.”

Jared opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it considering the company, and Jensen went right on with his introductions.

“You’ve met Eve.” Eve didn’t move, but nodded her hello. No hugging. 

“Desmond Green,” Jensen said as the tall African man sitting across from a blonde woman stood, offering Jared his hand. Jensen was standing just behind and to the left of Jared, his voice close as he said, “I’ll let him tell you all about how he’s the best fucking attorney to ever put on a suit.”

“I save all my bragging for the court room,” Mr. Green said. His handshake was just the right side of firm. “Good to finally meet you, Jared.”

What the fuck did that mean? Jared darted a glance to Jensen, He wasn’t paying attention to Jared, but under his usual cool, vague demeanor, he seemed relaxed. Happy, even. 

“Good to meet you too,” Jared said to Green.

The blonde woman stood now, stepped forward. Her hair and makeup were immaculate, like she’d just stepped away from the mirror, and she was wearing nude heels with her skirt and blouse. “Bre Reagan,” she said, offering a her hand, but it was less of a shake and more of an odd grip over Jared’s fingers. “Michael . . .” Bre said and turned, looking out over the lawn, searching for something, and Jared saw there were people over at the pool, two little heads bobbing above the water. They were watched by an adult male, but it was too far for Jared to make out features. “Michael’s sister. He’s taking the girls for a swim,” Bre said. 

“And this,” Bre turned to the girl leaning against the table, “is my daughter, Lisa.” Under her light summer blouse Lisa’s upper arms had half a sleeve of tattoos, flowers and wings worked into a solid picture. 

“Hey,” Lisa said, smiled. 

“We were just telling Lisa she should –”

“Go back to school,” Lisa said. Then to Bre, “Still not happening.”

Bre raised an eyebrow at Lisa, then smiled at Jared. 

“So Jared . . . Padalecki?” 

“Right,” Jared said, feeling at a disadvantage. How much had Jensen told them about him? More strange was why. Never seemed like Jensen gave a shit what anyone thought. He didn’t really offer information. But maybe that was just with Jared. People like Jared.

“Is that Russian? No, Polish?”

“I guess,” Jared said, then smiled to show he wasn’t being an ass. “I’m surprised Jensen told you about me, we haven’t even . . .” Jared turned to look at Jensen. He was watching Jared with an odd look on his face. 

“ . . . been dating that long,” Jared finished. Or, you know, dating at all. Ever. That almost felt like slapping himself in the face, though. _Hey, look, I’m knocked up by a guy I’ve never even dated._

“A man who dates for too long shows indecision,” Andrea said as she crossed over to one of the chairs set back from the table. Eve had disappeared back inside.

“Jensen,” Andrea touched Jensen’s arm lightly as she passed, “is not indecisive.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” Jensen said. 

“What’s a man who wont date at all?” Desmond Green asked, and Jared glanced to Bre and Lisa, feeling a bit lost. 

“Mom!” 

The shout came across the lawn from a little girl in a purple bikini, running even as she tried to push her wet hair away from her eyes. “Mom, I beat my time!” She got to the terrace steps and tripped, clamoring up them half with her hands. 

“Slow down, baby,” Andrea called. The little girl got to the top and jumped around in excitement.

“Coach isn’t gonna have _aaaanything_ to say.”

Across the lawn the man and the second child were walking towards the house and when they got closer Jared saw the girls were identical, only difference the color of their swimsuits. Both were blonde, even with wet hair. They didn’t look anything like Andrea.

Lisa said, “You should tell your coach he’s a fu –”

Bre said, “Lisa, don’t talk like that around the kids.”

“You talked like that around me when I as a kid.”

Andrea was combing the little girl’s wet hair back. “You and El go kind Chloe. Make sure she gives you your meds before you eat, okay?”

Jared caught Jensen watching Andrea and the little girl with a faint frown, like something about their exchange was bothering him. 

“You must be Jared,” a deep, smokers-rough voice said, and Jared looked up at the man approaching, the little girl as his side hugging her towel close. 

“Michael McNulty,” he said, offering his hand. He was as tall as Jared, and ror someone standing around at a pool, he was way overdressed, suit and tie complete with pocket square. “You’ve met most of our little circle,” he said, still holding Jared’s hand. “Jensen’s friends are our friends,” he said, voice low, sincere. Weirdly compelling.

 _That’s what worries me,_ Jared thought as he smiled and retrieved his hand, feeling a little nervous, now. Michael McNulty looked like a Marlboro cowboy in a suit, tall and lean even with his beard white, deep lines in his lean face. Not someone to be messed with.

The two little girls scamped past and through the french doors, dodging around Eve as she appeared on the terrace. She moved up to Andrea and bent to say something in her ear. 

“Thank you. It’s good to meet you,” Jared said to Michael, almost feeling like he should add a “Sir”. Something brushed over Jared’s hip and he felt Jensen stepping up close. 

Everyone around the table was moving towards the french doors. Michael looked up, taking his intense gaze away from Jared. “Going in?” he said, and turned to follow. 

For a moment just stood and watched them go. Then Jensen’s finger’s moved over Jared’s hip - _stroked_ over his hip - and Jared turned to look at him. 

“Let’s go meet the food,” Jensen said, not looking at Jared, stepping around him to lead the way inside. 

Jensen’s confusing behavior and the awkward company aside, the food was fucking amazing. Jared ate his weight in waffles smothered with whipped cream, and ham and Florentine crêpes, all while trying to convince himself the smell of smoked salmon wasn’t going to make him puke it all back up.

No one talked about guns or drugs or laundering money, but Jared tried to listen for codes in the small talk. Near the end of the meal a girl a few years older than him, her brown hair in a flappers bob cut, came in to take the little girls - Elsie and Teresa, nine years old, a universe-worth of energy between them. After the girls left with their nanny, breakfast was apparently over. Lisa was checking her phone, Green was talking to Andrea, and Jensen announced Jared had an appointment they had to keep.

“Appointment?” Jared asked as they made their way back through the house to the front doors. 

“With the _policía_.”

“You’re coming with me?” That didn’t sound like a good idea. Or maybe it did . . . no, not a good idea.

“They’ll want to talk to you alone. If I’m there they’re just think I’m influencing you.”

 _You are. You really, really are._ “Okay.”

Jensen’s car was parked in the front court, O’Connell behind the wheel. Behind it was a blue Bugatti. 

“I bought you a car,” Jensen said, nodding. 

Jared stared. “You bought . . . you bought me a fucking . . .what?” It was so out of left field, Jared couldn’t even process. Maybe pregnancy was making him stupid, but nothing about the situation made sense. 

“I bought you a car,” Jensen said again, slower. 

“That’s a Bugatti.” Jared wasn’t into cars really, but he knew a Bugatti Veyron when he saw one. He didn’t know how much they cost, but “a whole fucking lot” sounded about right. It was beautiful and shiny in the morning sunlight, like a kids’ toy come to life. It looked a lot like a bribe.

“For Mark to drive you around,” Jensen said as he took out his wallet and flipped it open.

Jared looked over, and sure enough Mark was in the drivers seat. “If it’s my car, why does Mark get to drive it?”

“You ever driven in the city?” Jensen fished a card out of his wallet, held it out towards Jared between two fingers. “Go shopping, buy whatever you need.”

Jared looked at the J.P. Morgan card, then at Jensen. There was something about Jensen wearing clothes that made Jared feel he hardly knew him, not like when they were together in bed. God, what did that say about their relationship? 

“What’s all this for?”

“You don’t want it?” Jensen asked, blandly. 

Even if it was some way of Jensen’s to keep him around, or keep his mouth shut to the police, Jared had already made up his mind about all that. He wasn’t going back now just because Jensen was acting weird and throwing expensive stuff at him. Maybe he could just look at it as child support.

“I want it,” Jared said, grabbing the card, shoving it in his back jeans pocket. 

“Alright.” Jensen rubbed a hand up his jaw, nodded and turned, striding towards his car without another word. Obviously, this was why important discussions should be conducted naked. Jared watched till Jensen disappeared into the car, then walked over to the blue Bugatti. Mark sat, looking straight ahead as Jared got in and buckled his seatbelt.

“So I guess you’re my chaperone for the day. Sorry.”

Mark didn’t respond, just started the car. The doors locked, the tinted windows rolled up. Mark took the sunglasses hooked into his shirt collar and put them on without answering. It was like he was pissed at Jared personally. 

Jared was not looking forward to the rest of the day.

At their first stop light Jared tried again. “Got any tips for lying to the police?”

“I’m not your lawyer.”

“I should have asked Desmond Green.” Jared watched Mark’s profile, but the mention of the name had to affect. Asking about Jensen’s relationship with the McNulty’s would probably be useless.

Jared tried to move his aching hand inside its damp, warped cast. The outside had dried, but the inside was disgustingly swampy. 

“Can I use your phone?”

Mark didn’t look over. “What for.”

“To call a hospital, see how soon I can get this cast replaced.”

“It’s already been set up.”

How the fuck.

“Jensen had someone take care of it. We’ll go after you talk to the police.”

Jared tried not to let it bother him, really. “Maybe someone should give me a copy of my schedule, since I’m the only one who doesn’t know it.”

Mark took a deep breath in through his nose, tapped his thumbs on the steeling wheel. The light changed and the car glided forward. Jared only then noticed Mark wasn’t shifting. 

“It’s not manual?”

“Semi-automatic,” Mark said.

Jared had never driven a manual, but now there was no way he wasn’t driving this car himself.  
There had to be someplace not too far away with a lot of open road.

By the time they pulled up outside the precinct building, Jared had a steadily growing need to piss, and worse, he was thirsty. 

Mark didn’t shut the car off, but leaned to one side to work a phone out of his jacket pocket. He handed it across to Jared. “Call when you’re done, I’ll pick you up.”

Jared took the phone, made an ungraceful exit from the car. As soon as the door was shut, Mark was accelerating away, invisible behind dark windows. 

_Thanks, Mark. You’re fucking useless._ Jared shoved the phone in back pocket as he walked between the mix of police and unmarked vehicles parked in front of the building. He had nothing prepared, no clue how he would explain this mess. The best lies contain the most truth - Jared wasn’t sure where he’d heard it, but it sounded like good advice. Hannah would have reported just what she saw, so that’s what Jared would work with. 

He pushed open the glass door. There was the smell of rubber and orange cleaner, the soft sound of the lobby door swishing closed behind him, the muted noise of voice and footsteps further in.

“Hi,” Jared said, catching the desk officer’s attention. “I’m Jared Padalecki. Someone reported me missing last week, so I’m here to clear that up. Actually, sorry, before I do that, where are the bathrooms?”

But of course it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was simple anymore, god fucking dammit. Jared didn’t have ID; his driver’s license – along with everything else – had been in Hannah’s car. Looking it up in DMV records apparently wasn’t enough. Jared had his fingerprints taken and compared to the records from the background check he’d undergone before for working at Clermont. There was waiting. Someone had to confer with the Idaho police. A very skeptical officer took his statement, but once Jared signed, they asked him to wait and left. 

Jared had finally gotten a bottle of water, but two hours in his stomach started growling and he wondered what Mark would say if he called him to ask for some take out. 

“Jared Padalecki?” The guy who opened the door was middle age, brown hair thinning, causal street clothes instead of a uniform. 

“I’m Detective Peters. I just talked with the Idaho police, and there are a few things we’d like to clear up.”

“Okay,” Jared said, even though it really wasn’t.

Peter’s took a chair, dropped a folder on the table, flipped it open. “I’m told you declined to identify these friends of yours?”

“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. It was just a prank.” Make your story simple, stick with it. Jared had been pulled from the car screaming and struggling, there was no denying that. So it was a group of friends playing a prank. It was a fucking stupid story, but there was no way to put a positive spin on what had happened. Jared wasn’t a minor, what could they really do?

Send in a police detective. 

“I understand that,” Detective Peters said in a friendly tone. “Can you tell me where you’ve been for that past five days?”

“With my friends. Driving back to New York.”

“Yes, I see that in your statement . . . is there a reason you waited this long to come in and correct your missing status?”

Underneath the table, Jared’s knee bounced with jittery energy. Every calm question Peters dropped tightened the knot in Jared stomach. He was starting to feel nauseated in the close, dead air of the room. 

“I didn’t know Hannah would . . . didn’t know I’d been reported missing.” Guilt. It was there, deep and thorny, warning him away.

“Did you come here alone today?” Peters asked, casual. 

“Do you see anyone with me?” Jared said, just before he thought better of it. God, he just wanted out of here, out of the uncomfortable hand cast, out of the uneasy, uncertain life he’d started living. “I’m here alone.”

“Jared, do you . . .”

The door opened and a woman in slacks and a peach dress shirt looked in. “Sorry. Carl, that phone call came in.”

Peters moved to stand, and Jared said, “Can I go to the restroom? I’m not feeling well.”

Both Peters and the woman looked at him, like it was some guilty confession.

“It’s morning sickness,” Jared said. 

Peter’s gaze dropped, like he could see through the table to confirm Jared’s pregnant state. “Yeah, that’s fine. Detective Arnett can show you.”

Jared stood. “I know where the bathrooms are.” 

Both detectives stepped back to let him pass through the door. It was a gauntlet past the officers, through the hallways. In the bathroom Jared shut himself in the handicap stall and crouched to rest his arms across his knees, dropping his head to his crossed wrists, the girth of his belly making it awkward. The sick feeling swirled in his stomach, maybe his breakfast ready to come back up, maybe guilt and stress, lies turning sour.

 _Keep it the fuck together._ He hadn’t anticipated it being this hard, lying to the police. But it wasn’t even the lying or the police. It was Hannah, the memory of being drug from the car and hearing her scream, scared for Jared. 

And his mom. Who was going to call her to tell her Jared had turned up again? 

After a few minuets of breathing the chemical floral scent that overpowered the bathroom smell, Jared was pretty sure he wasn’t going to puke, and he sat up, pulled out the phone Mark had given him. There was one number saved, and Jared sent a text, _done. pick me up._

He left the bathroom and at the end of the hall, Detective Arnett was lurking. 

“I have an appointment to keep,” Jared said before she could do or say anything. “If you don’t have a reason to keep me, I’m leaving now.”

Maybe showing up with your lawyer made you look guilty, but it really would have made things easier. Jared went with repetition.

“I have an appointment to get my cast replaced.”

“I can’t stay, I have an appointment.”

“Are you keeping me? Otherwise I’m leaving.”

No one believed a single word he said, Jared didn’t have to be good at reading people to see that. They let him go anyway. Jared gave Detective Peters the number for the phone from Mark, only because Peters said they needed some way to contact him when his things arrived from the Idaho police. When Jared finally stepped out the front doors, the blue Bugatti was parked across the street, five cars down. 

When Jared dropped into the passenger seat, Mark was finishing a phone conversation. 

“Right,” he said, listened for a moment, then ended the call, shoved the phone back in his jacket pocket. 

Jared felt an irrational resentment, buoyed by the sick, guilty swimming in his stomach that wanted to blame Mark for something. Blame Jensen. Blame anyone connected to Jensen.

All the more because the only person responsible was Jared himself. 

“Can we go to the fucking hospital now,” Jared said, let all his annoyance show.

“Not till half after three.”

Jared looked at the clock. 1:23. He leaned his head back into the seat. “Food. Nothing that’s take out. Real food.”

“Whatever you say,” Mark said in a way that meant the opposite, but left it there. Jared expected something a little more insulting. It just made the situation feel even stranger.

“Is this your job now, driving me around?”

“No.”

“You’re just here to make sure I didn’t say something to the police?” _Go ahead, ask me what I said,_ Jared thought, ready for a conflict of some kind.

Mark didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Jared. They wove through traffic. At a stop light a kid on the sidewalk pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the Bugatti. 

Mark took them to a tiny Indian place. Jared held onto his helpless, directionless anger as Mark found parking and they walked to the restaurant. He held the door for Jared, but it wasn’t a polite gesture, it was like a bodyguard or a babysitter. That pissed Jared off too. 

He stayed that way till their food arrived, and then the only thing he had enough attention to keep up with was the tender, spicy chicken warming his mouth and throat, the lamb kababs, garlic and ginger and bell pepper. He hadn’t realized how hungry he really was. How long had it been since breakfast? Way too long. 

Mark didn’t talk, barely ate, mostly watched people. Twice he looked at his phone. Jared remembered he still had the one Mark had given him. He took another bite of rice, and dug the phone out while he chewed. 

“I need to keep this, the police are going to call when they get my stuff back.”

Mark was still wearing his sunglasses, looking very douchey. Jared couldn’t tell where he was looking behind the mirrored lenses. “It’s yours.”

“Yeah, maybe I want to choose my own phone.”

“Then we’ll do that after you get the hand fixed.” Mark reached a hand across the table for the phone, but Jared pulled it back. Some sixth sense he didn’t even know he had was nudging the back of Jared’s mind.

“I need something to use till then,” he said, dropping his hand below the table, hiding it from Mark. 

Mark shrugged, took his hand back. “Done here?”

Jared took a last bite of chicken. “I’m done.”

“Sure you don’t want to take it with you?”

Jared glanced at Mark, not sure if it was a genuine offer or casual mocking. “No, let’s go.”

They walked back to the car, Jared half a step behind Mark, turning the phone over in his hands. It was HTC M8 and looked brand new. So Mark had a new phone ready to hand over to Jared. He should expect that, it all this was coming from Jensen, and Jensen didn’t really give people choices. But it’s not like he’d be buying his own phone, either way. 

They drove the hospital. They waited. Mark sprawled in the waiting room chair with bored resignation. When Jared was called back, he didn’t even twitch behind his sunglasses. 

Jared sat wearing weird safety glasses while they cut off his cast, exposing white, wrinkled skin and a foul smell. He was fucking rotting under there. 

No one commented on Jared’s pregnant state, but when he asked if it was safe to take something stronger than Tylenol, the nurse asked him what he was taking now. 

“Nothing. Sometimes arnica.” _Do orgasms count as pain relief?_

“That’s probably something to talk to your obstetrician about.”

When Jared returned to the waiting room, hand freshly immobilized, Mark looked like he was sleeping, his head tilted back against the wall. 

“Looks like your boyfriend is ready to go,” the lady behind the reception desk said, and Jared almost did a double take, expecting to see Jensen walking in the door. 

Mark shifted in his chair, moving to stand, and Jared said, “He’s not my boyfriend.” 

It set the tone for the rest of that day. Not that Jared could really blame anyone for assuming. A guy and another guy sporting a baby bump out shopping together, assuming they’re a couple is pretty obvious. But why the fuck did so many people feel the need to comment?

Jared hated shopping. It was exhausting, there was too much stuff, it was all in different places. And he needed literally everything, he didn’t even have his own razors or toothbrush, just stuff Jensen had bought. Or Mark had bought him with Jensen’s money. That arrangement had hardly changed. 

“Why don’t you just do all the shopping? You seem pretty good at it,” Jared said. 

Mark took a drink of the coffee he’d picked up between J. Crew and Walgreens. He didn’t say anything. 

“What’s with the not talking?” Jared looked around, trying to decide where they were going next. He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be looking for and he was getting tired. It was like he’s lost all stamina since getting pregnant. 

“I’m not here to keep you entertained,” Mark said, watching a tall, dark-haired girl window shopping. She kind of reminded Jared of someone in his highschool biology class, a girl who was captain of the cheer squad and dissected frogs with the seriousness of a surgeon performing a life-saving operation. Valerie? Was that her name?

“ . . . before nine.”

“What?” Jared caught the end of whatever Mark was saying. 

“You need to hurry it up, we need to be back by nine.”

Jared fought a building yawn. “Back where.”

“Boss’s place.”

“McNulty’s?” Why were they going there? Even just the mention brought up strangeness of the house and people still hanging on him.

“Jensen’s.”

Relief settled in. Jensen’s penthouse. Jensen’s bedroom. Maybe Jensen himself.

Fucking Jensen. “I didn’t know you had a curfew, Mark.” Jared spotted a Gamestop sign down the mall court. “Does Jensen have a PS? Or Xbox?”

“Why would I know that.”

“You practically live with him,” Jared said, heading towards the store. They’d already been by Best Buy to get Jared a MacBook, though Jared had no idea what he even needed it for. There was some vague idea of a future where school was an option, but mostly he bought it because Jensen was paying for it.

“I guess I’ll get both,” Jared said as Mark followed him into the store. There had to be a limit on the card, and Jared was going to find it.

In the end they left only because Jared couldn’t think of anything else to buy without just pulling things off the shelves. As it was, Mark made Jared have everything delivered. The Bugatti was probably already full.

“You really like fucking with him, don’t you.” 

Jared looked over at Mark in the harsh light of the parking garage, the sunglasses finally gone now that it was nearing dark somewhere far above the city lights. 

“Fucking with who?” Jared asked, even though he knew. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mark said, not as an answer, but for no good reason it made Jared laugh. 

He had the car door open when he remembered. “Wait, we have to got back, I need candy.”

Mark looked pissed. Or it could have been the bad lighting.


	14. Freeroll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not actually editing this. May or may not come back and do it at some point in the future.

Jared woke as the bed sheets came off him and cool fingers slid up under his t-shirt. He jerked away, sucking in a breath heavy with the smell of smoke and perfume, and twisted around to see Jensen kneeling on the bed behind him. 

“Fuck,” Jared breathed. In the dim light, he couldn’t see Jensen’s expression, could barely make out dark hollows for eyes, the curve of full lips. “What time is it?”

Jensen leaned in, pressed his lips against Jared’s chin, moved to his mouth. The kiss tasted like rum under the smoke. “Late,” Jensen whispered against Jared’s lips. His hands came back, working under the waistband of Jared’s boxers, rucking up his shirt, roaming restlessly.

There was something Jared needed to ask Jensen, maybe a whole list of somethings, what he’d lined up in his mind as he fought sleep alone in the huge bed. He hadn’t really expected Jensen to be home when Mark let him into the penthouse, but he’d been disappointed anyway.

In usual form it all took a backseat when Jensen made a growling noise and rolled Jared over onto his back, crawling over on top of him. The heat and weight of Jensen’s body, the smell of smoke, it was like a drug to Jared, bypassing conscious thought to physical response.

“You smell like smoke,” Jared said, even as he lifted his ass to let Jensen drag cotton boxers down over his hips.

Jensen paused. “That counts?” His voice was rough, consonants slurred. 

Before Jared could answer, Jensen rolled off him, leaving the bed. Artificially cooled air moved in, washing over Jared’s exposed crotch and he grabbed for the sheets. The bathroom door closed halfway and the shower turned on. 

Jared yawned into the pillow, pushed his hand under the sheets to cup his half hard cock. What had Jensen been doing all day? What did Jensen usually do all day? Jared didn’t even know, but he should. That’s the kind of stuff you know about the people you live with.

It was only minutes when Jensen returned. He moved across the bedroom, outlined by the bathroom light on one side and the city lights from the partially covered window on the other. Jared watched curve of Jensen’s naked hip and thigh, his tight waist, the shape of his arms as he ran a towel over his hair. 

“James passed.”

It took Jared a moment to figure out what Jensen was talking about, and then he immediately pulled his hand off his dick. Didn’t seem like a good time to be jerking off, Jensen’s perfect body notwithstanding.

“James your friend?” Jared wasn’t sure how this all fit. Was James a McNulty? Definitely a mob member. 

Jensen collapsed on top of the rumpled bed sheets. “Wake’s tomorrow night.”

Jared couldn’t think of anything to say, but feeling he should say something, he asked, “Should I go?” But maybe Jensen didn’t want him there. 

There was a pause, the sound of Jensen breathing, the faint noise of the city below. 

“You wont be able to drink. ‘S just a fucking lot of alcohol.” Jensen sighed. “Should come anyway.”

Jared felt another yawn building, tiredness moving in. Thirty seconds ago he’d been ready to fuck Jensen into next week. Being pregnant was like having your meds switched. And added to, with, like . . . something. Goddammit. 

Jared yawned. “Okay.”

“What’d you do t’day,” Jensen slurred, turning his head towards Jared.

“Got a new cast.” Jared lifted his arm. 

“ ‘s good.”

“Are you drunk?” Or maybe high. Jared wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“Kind of,” Jensen said. Then he laughed, low in his throat. 

“What?” Jared asked. 

“Some’a the guys are so fucking blasted. They’re gonna wish they were dead tomorrow.”

Something bumped against Jared’s cast. In the dim room could barely make out Jensen’s fingers moving over the hard surface. 

“Still hurts?” Jensen asked, voice soft.

“Not bad,” Jared said.

Jensen moved closer, his fingers slipping off the cast, moving up Jared’s arm. Jared waited, but Jensen’s hand stopped, fingertips tucked under Jared’s t-shirt sleeve, and stayed there.

Out of nowhere, something Trevor had said cam to Jared. _”You know the youngest McNulty son has been missing for months now? Things are moving in the McNulty ranks.”_

“Who’s James?”

“Huh?” Jensen grunted.

“In the family. Is he a McNulty?”

“Yeah. Boss’ little brother.”

Something hot and unpleasant sparked in Jared’s chest. “The guy you fucked to join the family.”

Jensen laughed, loose and open. “That’s Cillian. Youngest. James was . . .” he trailed off, and Jared felt Jensen’s fingers leave his shoulder, move down his side.

Jared shivered under the touch. “Was what?”

“Second. Second oldest, second in the family.”

“So it’s Michael, James, Bre and Cillian? Any others?”

“Not ‘less you’re counting inlaws,” Jensen said. 

There was silence, just the sound of Jensen’s slow breathing. Jared kept his eyes open in the dimness, watching Jensen’s dark shape.

“Who was it who shot at us that night?”

Jensen’s hand pressed more firmly against Jared, every finger a point of pressure. “Michael’s kid, Nathan.” A pause. “Hasn’t done shit for the family, but he thinks he earned his place.”

“And he think’s you’re in his way?”

“Mostly, he’s a fucked up kid.” 

“What happened?” _Is he dead? Did you kill him?_ The questions burned in Jared’s throat, but he couldn’t ask, couldn’t remember how much he was supposed to know and how much he’d been told by the agents. No way he could ask about the dead girl in the wood, Melissa-somebody. 

Jensen didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, “Michael took care of it.” Another pause. “It’s tough.” Jensen’s hand moved again, settling on Jared’s stomach.

“You can’t feel it yet,” Jared said. 

“Wha’?” Jensen mumbled.

“You can’t feel it moving yet. I can barely feel it.”

Jensen’s head moved, just a vague shape against pale sheets. “It’s moving?”

“Sometimes. Mostly at night. Not right now,” Jared added. 

Jensen didn’t say anything, but for a few second, his hand didn’t move. Then he withdrew it, shifted over onto his back. He didn’t say anything, and after a while waiting in the silent dark, Jared found his eyes closing, his mind drifting towards sleep.

He almost felt bad for bringing the baby up, considering the previous conversation. It was too dark for something so little and fragile. The McNulty’s weren’t the kind of family Jared wanted, not for his kid. 

But considering who Jared’s son had for a father, it was probably too late for that wish.

__ 

Jensen was gone when Jared woke the next morning, but Rick was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading a book. Jared missed coffee, but he wasn’t sure if he could actually drink it, anymore. There was a tray of assorted doughnuts on the counter, though. He took three, considered for a moment, then added another. 

“Are you here to babysit me?” Jared asked as he joined Rick at the table. 

“Sure am,” Rick said. 

Jared ducked down to see the front cover of the book. _Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy._ He sighed and took another bite of doughnut.

“Know where I can find a good doctor?”

Rick looked up. “Something wrong?”

“No. Never mind,” Jared said, and started on his second doughnut. He didn’t bother asking where Jensen was, who the fuck knew where Jensen ever was? _Gone_ was his constant state. 

Jared spent the morning with his new Mac. He searched for doctors in the city, found out he could safely consume the infrequent cup of caffeine, and opened the login page for his email provider twice, closing it out each time without going further. That heavy, sick feeling was back in his gut, and he buried it under useless distractions. 

He spent ten minutes carefully wrapping his cast in plastic, five minutes figuring out the controls on Jensen’s massive shower, and thirty minutes enjoying the heavy spray. He got dressed in new clothes, then started up packing the rest, but quit halfway through, the work too mindless to occupy his thoughts. Did his mom know he was okay now? Had the police called her? Had they called Hannah? Did they tell her what he’d told them?

Jared went back downstairs, intending to annoy the fuck out of Rick till he agreed to let Jared go out. Or till he gave up Jensen’s Netflix password. Either would work.

“Because I already took care of it. Keep your fucking opinions to yourself.” 

The voice was Jensen’s, and it was pissed. Jared stopped in the living room, waiting, but there was only silence, someone pouring coffee. 

Jared stepped into the kitchen. Rick was reading still, or at least looking down at his book. Jensen was leaning against the counter, drinking coffee. 

“Hey,” Jared said, trying to gauge Jensen’s mood. But whatever had pissed him off didn’t seem to be Jared. When he saw Jared, Jensen smiled, slow and happy. He was so fucking pretty Jared’s chest did a stupid lock-down thing, attempting to crush his heart. It was probably self-preservation from future pain.

“Ready to go to a wake?”

— 

A wake, as Jensen explained in the car on the way, was a last goodbye, a parting glass with the dead. An excuse to drink huge amounts of alcohol. Wakes weren’t supposed to be a sad thing, but James had died from cancer, not old age. It wouldn’t be much of a celebration. 

Jared had changed from his unreasonably comfortable striped hoodie to a dark sports jacket and slacks, even though he would probably end up being too hot. Anywhere outside of temperature controlled rooms was too hot. Jensen had already been wearing a dark suit and white shirt, collar unbuttoned and free of a tie. When Jensen was looking away, Jared watched him. He didn’t act hungover, but his eyes were a little red and the bruising on his face had faded to pale colors. 

Jensen caught Jared’s gaze and grinned. Jared’s stomach did another flip, half surprise, half want. Goddammit, he wasn’t used to this Jensen.

The drive ended at the McNulty mansion. There were cars parked along the edge of the front court, and as O’Connell pulled up at the front doors to let them out, Jared saw another dark blue sedan coming up the drive through the gates.

It was nothing like Jared’s last visit. They were met at the door by a duo of girls in dark green banquet jackets who directed them to the “great room”. The place was alive with muted sound, voices and footsteps, like a museum tour where you hear other people but never see them. Except that Jared caught glimpses of more green jackets, and when they turned down a wide hall, a guy in the same uniform passed them, carrying a tray of glasses.

Meeting new people didn’t make Jared nervous. Not before Jensen. Before the McNulty’s, before Jensen’s guys, maybe before The Jade Room, he _liked_ meeting new people. It was still out of place, the uneasy squirming in his gut as he followed Jensen into a room full of strangers.

There had to be at least fifty people in the room itself, and the three sets of doors leading out onto the terrace were open., outside more people standing, talking, sitting at tables. In the midst of all that, a coffin was on display at the center of the room. All the nicely dressed people moving and conversing around a dead body. Jared decided not to think if it in those terms.

Jensen moved through the milling crowd and Jared followed. Most everyone had a drink in hand. There was a circular bar at the other side of the room manned by a guy in a tuxedo jacket. He was serving something in a martini glass to a woman in a short black dress. When she turned her head, Jared saw it was Lisa, looking older with her hair up and eyes outlined by sharp black wings.

Jensen stopped beside the casket and lay a hand on the edge. The top half was open showing the body inside, laid out on white velvet cushioning. The dead guy looked like a younger version of Michael McNulty. His hair was still mostly dark, and even with the makeup he looked sick, but the resemblance was unmistakable. For some reason the idea of Michael having a younger brother - two brothers, and a sister - seemed wrong. Family that got along and stayed close, some cute, happy ideal. Did Cillian look like his brothers, tall, dark and intimidating?

It was beginning to feel like he was gawking, so Jared looked away. 

“Hey, again.” 

Jared turned, and Lisa smiled at him over the rim of her cocktail glass. Jared caught a wave of her light, floral perfume. Strong scents had started to bother Jared, but whatever Lisa had on was nice. 

Lisa was looking at the coffin. “I think the tie pin was overkill.” She spoke just loud enough for Jared to hear.

Jared glanced at the body. There was a silver and pearl pin in the yellow silk tie. “It looks good. Classic.”

“Classy is a must for a casket viewing.” Lisa tossed back the last of her drink, then fished a cherry from the empty glass, holding it on offer to Jared. “Virgin Manhattan?”

“I’ll pass.”

Lisa looked past Jared. “Hi, Jensen.”

Jensen just raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m going to take your boyfriend here to get a drink,” Lisa said. 

“Bring him back when you’re done,” Jensen said. He tapped the shiny wood of the casket twice, like a kind of goodbye to its occupant, then turned and moved into the crowd. 

“Still a dick,” Lisa said, lightly, watching Jensen go, and Jared had his mouth open to retort before his brain caught up and noticed her tone and expression.

A woman in a dark green dress, tight and low-cut so she practically spilled out of it, stepped up to the opposite side of the casket. She pressed two fingers to her lips, then laid them against the edge, closing her eyes as she moved her other hand to touch her forehead, then from shoulder to shoulder. 

“I need a refill,” Lisa said. “Come with me.” 

Jared followed Lisa across the room, around people and furniture groupings. He waited while she got a fresh drink and a glass of soda water for him. God, being pregnant really sucked. 

“Why’d you say Jensen is a dick?” Jared asked as they moved away from the bar. 

“He is.” She grinned around the rim of her glass. “Hot, though.”

Jared felt a weird rush of mixed annoyance and embarrassment, hearing someone talk about Jensen like that. He wanted to say Lisa didn’t know Jensen, he wasn’t . . . but that wasn’t true. She probably knew him better than Jared did. Everyone there probably knew him better than Jared did.

“Would it ruin our comfortable little thing here if I asked for the deets?”

Jared wasn’t sure he was understanding her. Or hoped not. “Um, like . . .”

“You know, measurements, best time, if he –”

“Yes. Yes, it would very much ruin it.”

Lisa shrugged, took a sip of her drink. “Was worth a try.”

Which, Jared was pretty sure, meant Lisa had never slept with Jensen. But now that the thought was there, he couldn’t help wondering about the others. Andrea, maybe Bre. It was making him a little sick, but if Jensen had fucked one of the McNultys, why not more than one?

And they probably all knew about it, too. Not like Jensen would tell Jared. Or maybe he would. He didn’t seem too concerned with keeping his past sex life a secret from.

“So, has . . .”

“If I was fucking someone in my family . . .”

Jared and Lisa both started, then stopped. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Jared asked. 

Lisa smiled, rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to fuck Jensen, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You said something about family?”

“If I was going to fuck someone in the family, I’d go with Andie.”

Jared made a sound, some kind of laugh-gasp hybrid. “I did not see that coming.”

“She’s hot. And wild. Obvious choice.”

“You just stand around imagining which of your relatives you’d sleep with?”

“Only when I’m drunk. Who would you choose?”

“From my family? No, no way, that’s . . .”

“The family.” Lisa made a vague waving motion to indicate the room and the people in it. 

“I think I already made that choice,” Jared said, only realizing how cheesy it was after the words were out. 

“You’re so fucking boring, all settled down.” Lisa said. 

Jared looked away, wanting to change the subject. “Andrea is wild? She seems very cultured, to me.”

Lisa laughed, a throaty chuckle. “She has a nickname in Boston - that’s where she’s from, like, ten years ago. They called her Hellcat.”

Jared tried to put the name to the woman he’d meet the last time he was there. It didn’t fit. “Why?”

Lisa pulled a cherry from her glass, shook it free of the twist of orange peel. “ ‘cause before she was all trendy mommy fashionista, she was fucking crazy.”

“That sounds . . .” _Like it runs in the family._

“So you worked at Jensen’s club before you met him?”

Jared looked at Lisa and she looked back, waiting. 

“For a while. How did you know that?”

“My mom.”

The returning feeling of being the only one in the dark pushed against Jared. Subtly didn’t seem necessary with Lisa, so he asked outright, “What else did Jensen say about me?”

Lisa shrugged, answered just as directly. “I wasn’t at the dinner. I think he talked to Uncle Mike, but when he told my mom and Andie it was just that there was a guy, the guy was pregnant with his kid, and he and this guy were going to make it official.”

Something sharp and unpleasant sparked through Jared’s body. “Official?” How many ways could you mean that? Why would Jensen say that? And _not_ say something to Jared.

“Yeah. My mom thinks it’s fucking hilarious.” Lisa frowned at her empty glass. “But in a good way. She likes you. Thinks you’re cute.”

Jared couldn’t say anything. His throat felt tight. Maybe the word was mob code for something else. No, that would be fucking stupid. It meant what it meant, and Jensen was a huge dick.

Lisa stumbled, grabbing Jared’s arm to catch herself. “Sorry.” She smoothed his jacket sleeve.

“Poor you. These things suck so much if you can’t get drunk.”

They sucked more if your boyfriend . . . Jared’s brain got hung up on the word, stopped there, all tangled in a knot of frustration and embarrassment. He scanned the room but didn’t see Jensen. Didn’t see anyone he recognized.

Lisa drug Jared back to bar for more drinks, then outside. It wasn’t too warm in the shade, and there was food being served by people in green jackets. Everyone was drinking like they were racing each other to intoxication. Jared found it somehow out of place that there were kids, Andrea’s little girls and half a dozen others, playing on the lawn. The McNulty girl’s nanny and a guy about Jared’s age seemed to be the ones managing them. 

Bre joined Jared and Lisa and somehow the conversation turned to school and worked its way around to why neither Lisa or Jared were attending university. It wasn’t a subject Jared really liked. Even just a reminder of his abandoned studies made him wants to metaphorically stick his fingers in his ears and make noise till the reminder - the memory itself - was gone. But almost anything was better than sitting there trying not to think about Jensen and his stupid face, telling people things like he had any right to . . .

It wasn’t the time or place to have a conversation about it, but Jared wasn’t sure he could _not_ say something, if he had Jensen right in front of him. So he stayed with the Reagans, talked about university studies and Lisa’s view of why college professors where the worst teachers, till the conversation turned to the late James McNulty’s love of horses. 

When Bre left to talk with other guests, Jared went in search of a bathroom. The crowd inside had thinned, fewer people lining the bar and lounging on the sofas. Jared spent a long time in the bathroom. After he’d relieved himself and washed his hands, avoiding his reelection in too many mirrors, he sat on a vanity seat upholstered to match the wallpaper and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to go back out there and talk to people, didn’t want to know anything more that would sit heavy and uncomfortable on his mind. And Jared wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the whole “make it official” thing, or that Jensen hadn’t told him about it.

Hiding in the bathroom like a lonely kid at a highschool dance wasn’t going to help, and eventually Jared made himself get up and leave.

Jensen found him the second he stepped back into the room. Jensen was standing at the bar, in conversation with a silver-haired man wearing a lavender shirt under his dark suit, but when he noticed Jared he smiled, said something and stepped away, heading for Jared. 

“Was looking for you,” Jensen said, stepping in close, hand brushing Jared’s arm. He seemed happy, but not drunk.

“Bathroom,” Jared said. He looked away, swallowing down what he really wanted to say. “What time is it?”

Jensen turned his wrist, pulling back his cuff to see the watch face. “Half past seven. You tired already? This goes on all night.”

Jared wasn’t tired . . . until Jensen mentioned all night, and a wave of weariness seemed to come out of nowhere. “I’m not gonna last that long,” Jared said, and Jensen laughed.

“We’ll find you someplace to lie down.”

Maybe he could get Jensen alone, ask him when he had been planning on telling Jared what everyone else apparently already knew. He looked at Jensen, but Jensen was distracted by someing over Jared’s shoulder. 

“Son of a bitch,” Jensen said softly. He stepped around Jared, and Jared turned to see what it was that Jensen was looking at. 

Turned out Cillian did look like his brothers. A lot. A younger version, still with the tall and dark, the strong resemblance working in his favor. Goddammit.

“You’re really fucking late,” Jensen said, striding up to the man. As Jared watched, Jensen grabbed the guy and yanked him into a hug that looked more like a prelude to violence.

The guy laughed into Jensen’s shoulder. He might have been late thirties, but he looked younger. 

“Wasn’t going to let those motherfuckers keep me away from Jamie.”

“Glad for that,” Jensen said, stepping back. 

Cillian’s eyes moved from Jensen, tracking over to Jared, and Jensen turned. 

“Yours?” Cillians asked. 

“Both of them,” Jensen said, and Jared was sure he was flushing, ready to be pissed by the proprietary attitude. 

Cillian laughed, sharp and loud, even in the already noisy room. “You got a sweet boy and he’s up the duff. What the fuck happened while I was gone?”

“He’s not a boy.” Jensen stepped away from Cillian, reaching one hand for Jared, and Jared let him, even though he wasn’t in the mood for Jensen’s brand of pleasant. 

“Jared, this is crude bastard is Cillian McNulty.”

Cillian was grinning like the whole situation was the funniest fucking thing he’d ever seen, but he stepped forward, offered a hand. Even in jeans and a leather jacket he looked as good as any of the guys wearing suits. Expect Jensen. Jared decided he hated Cillian fucking McNulty. He took his hand anyway.

“Cillian, Jared. Padalecki,” Jensen added, after a second’s pause. 

“Plus one,” Cillian said, giving a firm handshake before letting go.

“Nice to meet you,” Jared said, even tried to sound like he meant it. The guy was a bigger douchebag than Dan.

“I never thought we would,” Cillian grinned, eyes flicking back to Jensen. “Guess I should be toasting you twice tonight.”

Jensen laughed, and Jared wished he’s fucking stop. “We can wait for that second one till there’s actually a baby’s head to wet,” Jensen said. 

Whatever that meant, it sounded vaguely inappropriate and Jared was about to step in on his kid’s behalf when Cillian practically yelled,

“Get some fucking drinks over here. Jensen’s got a kid on the way, why did none of you fuckers tell me?”

Jared was seriously regretting ever leaving that bathroom.

In the time it took one of the servers to bring over a tray of tumblers and a decanter with a pattern of leaves around a stag, Cillian gave Jared a slow smirking, appraisal. The awkwardness only got worse when Andrea appeared, moving in to give Cillian a close hug and murmured message. When Michael joined them, Jared wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. There was literally nothing he could do but stand there and try to look like he wasn’t about to combust from social humiliation. 

Drinks were poured, and it was only when Cillian took his glass in hand and turned to the room at large that Jared realized, _everyone_ was joining in on the toast. 

_I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you. You are so fucking dead,_ Jared thought at Jensen. Jensen, a slight smile tugging at his mouth was watching Cillian. 

“This is a toast Jamie would have wanted to be giving himself, but I think he knows I do it better,” Cillian said, and there was giddy, drunken laugher. 

“To Jensen. Brother, it’s been a long road,” Cillian said, turning to hold his glass towards Jensen. “Now you’re stepping up, and we know you’ll lead us straight.” There was a drawn-out pause.

“Into a fuck-load of money!” Cillian shouted and the whole room burst into chaos. Standing beside Jared, Jensen was looking faintly amused, but not the least bit uncomfortable. Cillian started pouring another round into his and Andrea’s glasses, ignoring the green-jacketed guy still standing by the tray. Jared felt Jensen’s hand settle on the small of his back. 

Cillian had to shout to be heard the second time around, and thank god no one really seemed to be listening. “And to the little Ackles. May he be born a proper Irish bastard.” Someone out in the crowd yelled something back that Jared couldn’t make it out, but Cillian laughed, and even Jensen chuckled. 

So. Fucking. Dead.

The second he could, Jared excused himself with the claim he needed to get some air, and moved out onto the terrace. 

The crowd thinned as the night wore on, and the remaining guests grew progressively more drunk. Even after working at the club - or maybe because of working at the club - drunk people tended to annoy Jared when he was in their company sober.

It was a nice night, warm and clear. Some of the staff set up lanterns, lighting the terrace in a golden glow. There was more food, more alcohol. Spills were wiped up and broken glass was swept away. Probably puke, but thankfully Jared hadn’t witness any yet or he might have upchucked himself. Other than Jared and the staff, Eve seemed to be the only person there who wasn’t wasted.

The conversation turned more and more to James McNulty. It might have been the lateness of the hour, it might have been the whole event, but Jared was getting shivers, sitting and listening to people talk about a dead man while his body lay in the next room.

The guy Jared now knew was Bre’s husband, Terry Reagan, despite no official introduction, was standing next to Jensen, talking. It was too far for Jared to hear, but whatever he was saying made Jensen bite his lower lip and nod his head, looking a little sad.So Jensen was a handsy _and_ maudlin drunk. 

Cillian was leaning against the railing on Jensen’s opposite side, looking only a little less drunk. Probably had a great tolerance. Unlike Jared. 

“We shouldn’t have let him die like that,” Andrea said, and Jared’s attention was brought back to the two other people sharing the table with him. Andrea was drinking whiskey on the rocks, and Mr. Lawyer Green had something that might have been an Ascot. He was kind of a hilarious drunk, painfully careful in his words and movements. Jared had to bite his tongue more than once to avoid laughing. 

He really needed sleep. 

“Die like what?” Jared asked, because Andrea was leaning in his direction, chin on one hand. 

“Slow. So goddamn slow.” 

Someone shouted, over by the pool, an a girl laughed loudly, ending with a shriek. The lights were on in the pool house and the pool was lit from underneath, glowing blue. Jared could just make out dark shapes of people moving in the water.

“He wouldn’t have wanted that. He’d rather’ve gone out on his gun.”

“He was . . .” Green paused, looking up at the night sky. “He was insensible. At the end. That’s the best way.”

“I’m never dying like that,” Andrea said, and finished her drink. She turned to find someone to come refill it and Jared got up, excusing himself though no one seemed to notice. Even with all the noise of the drunken meltdown, Jared was this close to falling asleep in his comfortable chair. He glanced over at Jensen as he left, couldn’t stop himself, but Jensen had his head down, listening to something Cillian was saying. 

Inside, there were a few people grouped on couches but the bar was empty expect for O’Connell, drinking something from a coffee mug. Probably coffee. Add him to the short list of sober people.

Jared hesitated, considering asking for Eve’s whereabouts, considering she was Andrea’s assistant she could probably get him a room to sleep in. O’Connell caught Jared’s gaze and nodded in a kind of greeting and Jared nodded back, but kept moving. Eve was probably busy, he’d just go find a couch.

There was a couple in the hallway, all but fucking against the wall, and Jared moved past quickly before could get that far. Maybe he wasn’t too knowledgeable about how a wake was supposed to go, but most of the night seemed more like a college party than a memorial for the dead. 

When Jared found himself in some kind of gallery, a wall of paintings across from shiny elevator doors, he realized he had no idea where a room with comfortable couches would be located. Further down, there were windows Jared was pretty sure face the back of the house, so he’s basically walked in a circle, however that was possible. 

He sighed and turned to the wall of art. Painted in neoclassicism, a girl dressed like a Grecian goddess with golden cat’s eyes was drinking from what looked like a human skull. “The fuck,” Jared muttered into the echoing silence. There was a flutter behind his bellybutton and Jared’s hand moved automatically, pressing over the sensation.

“Good call, kid. I think it’s creepy too.”

The sound of footsteps made Jared turn, expecting one of the staff, but it was Jensen.

Jensen with his shirt collar unbuttoned, his hair a little messed up, his body relaxed, every inch of him looking as good as Jared has ever seen him. 

“Taking a tour?” Jensen asked when he got close. 

“Was about to fall asleep.” 

Jensen stopped just behind Jared’s right shoulder, close enough for Jared to catch the scent of brandy off his breath. 

“Art’s your thing?” Jensen’s words blew warm against Jared’s neck. 

“Depends on the art.” On second look, the girl seemed more sad than triumphant, holding her skull-goblet in slender, taloned fingers. 

“Come on,” Jensen said. “Lets go put you to bed.”

“Is that a euphemism?” 

Jensen looked at Jared, his gaze considering, a heavy attention that heated Jared’s gut with a mix of arousal and jumpy anticipation, not quite sure what was coming but wanting it so goddamn bad.

Jensen reached up, taking the ends of Jared’s hair between his finger, strangely gentle. He stepped in, close enough for their clothes to brush, sliding his palm around to cradle the back of Jared’s head. The feeling was a flashback to the suburban, Jensen’s hands holding Jared’s head against the seat, the same width and shape, fingers digging into Jared’s skull, the smell of leather and Jensen. Just a second’s flash, and Jared flinched, shook the memory away. It didn’t belong, it wasn’t the same, he didn’t _feel_ the same. 

But Jensen noticed and he stilled, watching Jared’s face. Before he could decided to move away, untangle his fingers from Jared’s hair, leave him in a strange bed, alone, Jared said, “Will you stay with me?”

Things were never good when you added extra people, but alone, together, it settled into recognizable shapes. Manageable. Understandable. Jared had a growing list of things he had to bring up, but now it seemed they could wait. For a certain space of time, Jared knew the rules of the game, and it wasn’t Jensen going back downstairs to drink another round with guys in leather jackets. 

Jensen pulled Jared into a slow, easy kiss. Just a kiss, lips on lips. He didn’t say anything as he took Jared’s arm and lead him towards the elevator doors. 

It was like prom night all over again. Except, not, because Jared’s date had puked on him before they even made it upstairs, never mind undressed, and yeah, probably best not to think about puking.

Prom was overrated, and teenage sex mostly awkward and why the fuck was Jared thinking about that now, with Jensen right there? Jensen leading him out of the elevator and down the hall, into the bedroom, walking Jared backwards till his legs hit the bed. 

Exhaustion and arousal were combining into a weird euphoria, leaving Jared completely open., spread out on the endless mattress. Jensen was above him, his knuckles dragging up Jared’s thigh. “You gonna stay awake for this?”

“Not if you don’t hurry up,” Jared said, too breathless to pull it off.

“We’ve got all night.”

Jensen went slow, so fucking slow, so horribly, wonderfully slow, pressing the heel of his hand into Jared’s aching erection, stroking him through his pants till Jared was jerking his hips up, needing more. 

Jensen laughed when Jared grabbed his wrist, trying to get Jensen’s hands where he wanted them, and the sound went straight to Jared’s dick. He let go to push himself up with his good hand. Jensen was leaning over him, caging Jared in with his arms. Jared hooked his gimpy arm around Jensen’s neck, falling back to the bed, dragging Jensen down with him.

“Watch it,” Jensen growled against Jared’s throat, his mouth hot and wet, the scrape of his stubble sharp against Jared’s skin.

“You’re just fucking with me,” Jared panted.

Jensen pulled back far enough to grin down at Jared. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I want you to fuck me, not with me.”

Jensen’s lips parted, forming words that didn’t come. Looking down at Jared, there was something in his eyes, something other than lust. Jared thought it looked like longing. 

Stupid and dangerous, it sparked through Jared’s body. Emotion that was physical and formless and too fragile to acknowledge. 

“Don’t move,” Jensen said softly, pressing a hand to Jared’s chest as he backed off, moving to kneel between Jared’s legs. 

Jared lay back, looking down his own body - trying, anyway - as Jensen worked Jared’s damp pants open and down over his erection. Jared stayed still, but couldn’t stop the shivers twitching down his legs, wound too tight, waiting for every new touch. By the time Jensen had Jared naked and rolled him to one side, fingers sliding over Jared’s sweat-slick skin, Jared was more strung out than he’d ever been.

“Jens . . . Jensen . . .”

“Right here,” Jensen panted, breath moving over Jared’s skin. Jared had something else to say, but all of his focus was taken up by Jensen’s fingers, gripping Jared’s thigh to hitch one leg up. Then they were sliding between his ass cheeks, and Jared’s whole body jerked, a sharp spasm of pent up energy, when Jensen’s fingers entered his body. 

Jared turned his face into the bedclothes, muffling his gasping moans, too stupid with pleasure to really care what he was saying. _Fuck, good, Jensen, so good._

Then Jensen was behind him, hot, damp, naked skin, hands tight on Jared’s hips. “Still with me?” Jensen murmured, chin scraping over Jared’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jared breathed out, and felt Jensen pressing in, in in.

Jared was wrong, before. _This_ was best fucking thing he’d ever experienced. 

 

— 

 

Jared woke up when Jensen moved away, letting a wave of cool air under the bed sheets. Jared moaned and drug a sluggish arm across the warm space, groping after Jensen’s retreating body. 

“Where’re you goin’,” Jared mumbled into his pillow, eyes still too heavy too open. 

“Going out for a smoke,” Jensen said. 

“Comin’ back?”

“I’ll be back. Go to sleep.”

Then Jensen was gone, and Jared let sleep float him down into dreams. 

— 

For Jared, there was something about the nighttime hours - and, okay, mind-blowing sex - that made everything seem less important, less urgent. Made it easier to put things off in those stolen hours. It was indulgence to forget, and like a night of drinking that leaves a hangover, it just made everything that much more urgent the next morning.

The bedroom drapes were half opened, lighting the room when Jared woke. Jensen wasn’t in bed and for no reason this annoyed Jared, and then annoyed him by annoying him. Then he moved and immediately had other things on his mind. 

Jared shuffled out of bed and hunted around for his pants, found them lying over the back of a chair, dried come and all. He pulled them on anyway, even though there was no one else around, and made his way to the bathroom. 

Scratch that, not alone. Jensen was standing in front the mirror, halfway through a shave. Shirtless and barefoot, towel wrapped around his waist, his hair a mess, he looked half awake and definitely hungover.

“Hey,” Jared said. 

“Mornin’,” Jensen mumbled. He didn’t turn, but his eyes tracked Jared in the mirror as he passed.

There was a room inside the bathroom for the toilets, plural. The toilet room. Jared didn’t bother to close to door before flipping up the seat on the nearest one and aiming. 

Back in the main bathroom Jared took the sink next to Jensen to wash his hands. One glance in the mirror told him he looked like fried shit, despite last night’s sobriety. He needed a shower. And more urgently, food. He cupped a handful of water and bent to swish and rinse the nasty stickiness from his mouth, bracing the elbow of his bad arm against the counter when his balance tipped. It was becoming a problem more and more these days. 

Jensen paused to rinse out his razor, letting the water run as he looked Jared over. “How you feeling?” he asked, turning back to the mirror in front of him. 

“I’m not the one with a hangover,” Jared said, wiping his mouth and shutting off the tap. 

Jensen tilted his head, running the razor up his throat toward his chin. “You’re the one incubating.”

“Yeah, that’s a great way to put it,” Jared said, heaping on the sarcasm. He resisted the urge to touch his stomach, cover it. 

Jensen didn’t respond, and Jared didn’t move, even as the cold tile of the counter edge dug into his hip. 

“Hey,” he said, after a moment. 

Jensen grunted. 

“What exactly did you mean when you told people we were making this thing official.” Vague words that didn’t want to overstep, but needed to make themselves noticed. Maybe, maybe not, but Jared was sick of wondering, wanted a straight answer.

Jensen dropped the razor into the sink, pulled a hand towel off the rack, wiping traces of foam from his face. “What do you think I meant.” He was avoiding Jared’s gaze.

“I think you should just tell me.”

Jensen wiped a hand over his jaw, darted a glance at Jared. “You don’t want to get married?”

Even though he was expecting it, that word coming from Jensen made Jared’s pulse pick up, his stomach tingling with a mix of excitement and nerves. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t ask me.”

“Okay.” Jensen shut off the water, pulled the razor from the sink and dropped it on the towel. Before Jared could process that the conversation was over, Jensen had turned and was leaving the bathroom. 

Jared pushed away from the counter and followed. “What, you don’t want to talk about it now? You didn’t have a problem talking about it to everyone else.”

Jensen ignored him, headed into the closet and unzipped a garment bag hanging on one of the bars. He tossed pants across the padded bench set in the middle of the closet, followed it with a shirt. Someone had brought clothes, and Jared saw a second garment bag hanging beside the one that had held Jensen’s clothes. Hopefully that meant Jared had something clean to wear.

Jensen unceremoniously dropped his towel and started pulling on a pair of dark blue boxers. 

“You could have talked to me first. This shit isn’t one-sided.”

“I don’t need an answer from you till I ask. I haven’t,” Jensen said, voice dead calm. Dismissive. 

And really fucking childish. “So why the fuck didn’t you ask? Is there something I’m missing here?”

Jensen didn’t answer. He turned to the dressing room mirror, started buttoning his shirt. 

Jared pushed his tangled hair away from his forehead, feeling the uncomfortable itch of sweaty skin left to dry. He’d meant to be calm and mature about this, he really had. 

Jared’s stomach growled, obscenely loud in the silence. 

“I didn’t have the ring.”

Jensen was looking at his sleeve cuffs, like rolling them back required all his attention. “Fucking designer said two weeks.” He looked up at Jared, and Jared couldn’t place the look on his face, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. 

It was the stupidest thing Jared had ever heard. “You didn’t talk to me because you didn’t have a ring yet?” Jared choked on a laugh. “Oh my god, you seriously . . .” It was so dumb it was actually cute in a kind of pathetic way. Jared gave up and let the laugher out. Every time he started to talk, he caught sight of Jensen’s annoyed face and started all over again till he was starting to tear up, half collapsed against the shoe shelf. 

“That’s . . .” Jared gasped. “That’s the . . .oh, god, stop looking at me. I can’t stop.”

Jensen wasn’t actually looking at Jared, he was leaning against the set of drawers, putting on his watch, but his jaw was tight with ridged muscle. 

Jared slid down to the floor, back to the shelves. He wiped at his eyes, smothered a helpless giggled against his hand. He might be a little hysterical, but seriously, the image of Jensen all worked up over . . .

He swallowed down another burst of laugher, took a deep breath. “It better be one fucking spectacular ring.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Jared saw Jesnen’s head turn. 

“Is that a yes?”

“I guess.” The words were out before Jared really had time to consider it. Or maybe he’d already had the time. Months of it. 

He tilted his head to meet Jensen’s gaze. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The term "sweet boy" is prison slang for a young guy under the protection of another prisoner in return for sexual favors.
> 
> Also, "wetting the baby's head" is when the father of the child has a drink with friends to celebrate the birth of the baby.


	15. Make Me Wanna Die

They made it back to Jensen’s apartment midmorning. The cleaning service was just leaving, and there was a pile of packages in the foyer from Gamestop. Jensen gave them a long look, but didn’t comment.

Dan was sitting in the living room, but he jumped up when Jensen and Jared entered the room, like he was guilty being caught sitting down. 

“Dan’s staying with you today,” Jensen said before Jared could ask.

Jared looked over at Dan, who was watching Jensen, not a trace of the usual smirk. 

“Why? I don’t need a babysitter.” It kind of pissed Jared off, the way Jensen always had one of his guys hanging around, like Jared had to be watched.

“He’s not babysitting,” Jensen said, and reached for Jared, gripping the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

Jaared froze momentarily, the oddness of the moment sharp. Before he could recover Jensen was breaking the kiss, moving away. 

“Whatever you need, Dan will take care of it.”

“Okay,” Jared said, but didn’t really mean ‘okay’. 

Jensen turned, leaving, then paused. “You have an appointment tomorrow at ten. Someone will take you, just be ready.”

The unease that rose in Jared’s gut was something tied closely to Jensen’s world. “Appointment for what?”

“Doctor.” Jensen was still half turned away, not looking at Jared. For a moment he hesitated, like he was about to say more, then didn’t. 

Jensen gone, Jared looked over at Dan, ready for the usual pissing contest. 

It didn’t happen. Dan stepped back, retaking his seat on the couch all serious and un-Dan-like. His arm was still in the sling, held tight to his body. He actually looked a little uncomfortable with the whole arrangement. 

“A dozen strippers and a keg,” Jared said.

Dan’s face stayed completely expressionless. Jared was actually a little impressed. 

“Yeah, never mind that. Can’t drink it anyway. How about some take out? Chicken curry. And some of that . . . uh, onion bread, whatever it’s called.”

Jared wasn't sure what to expect, but he felt an unfamiliar glee when Dan didn’t say anything, just took out his phone and started dialing. _Yeah, who’s the boss now, bitch._

Jared left Dan ordering food and carried his Gamestop boxes upstairs. He wrestled them open and started spreading everything out over Jensen’s massive bed. The TV screen was sunk into the far wall, and Jared had never actually seen it on. Getting everything hooked up occupied Jared till the food arrived. He’d mostly been fucking with Dan, he’d eaten just a couple hours ago, but when he popped open the carry-out containers and the warm, spicy smells filled the room, Jared was immediately ready to eat again. He took everything upstairs, leaving Dan in the living room, and ate while he set up an Xbox live account. 

Sitting around on his ass, playing games and surfing the internet were things Jared very rarely did, before. Now it kept him from thinking about too much of what he didn’t want to think about. Which was pretty much everything except for Jensen, and in some ways, Jensen too. 

When Jared woke up from a nap he didn’t remember deciding to take, awkwardly sprawled across the bed, the game menu playing on the TV screen, take out boxes on the floor, the whole day had been burnt away. Jared shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Feeling lethargic and disgruntled with everything an everyone he went in search of food. 

Jensen didn’t come home that night. 

It set a pattern for the rest of the week. Jensen was rarely there and Jared ate, slept, showered and ignored the reality of a life that had wandered out into no man’s land.

There were breaks in the timelessness of living with Jensen. The first was Jared’s appointment with his new obstetrician. After scans and blood draws and awkward, embarrassing physical exams Dr. Grison sat down with Jared and went over his chart. The crease between her brows only grew more pronounced throughout the talk. When Jared finally left he had a list as long as his arm of thing he needed to be doing, and a card with his next appointment already written on the back. He also had the growing realization he was a horrible parent, before he was even technically a parent. It was a realization that didn’t have enough energy to grow, just stayed stuck in Jared’s throat, making him feel monumentally shitty.

He had a diet to follow, weight to gain, pills to take, sleep to get, exercises to do, classes to sign up for. Twenty more weeks to grow the kid to the right size, into a real, live baby. He was halfway there, and that might be the hardest part of all to wrap his head around. 

The day after Jared’s doctor’s visit, he picked up his ringing phone to see his mom’s number on the screen. After a second’s hesitation, he ignored the call, but fifteen minuets later his conscience kicked him and he dialed her number, pacing the living room, tense and miserable as her phone rang twice. 

“Jared?”

“Hi, mom.” His voice was steady. His hands shook.

“Jared, where . . .” her breath rattled against the speaker in a long exhale. “I had to get your number from the police. Why didn’t you call me?”

Jared dropped to the couch, tried to relax his tense muscles.

“Mom, I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m really fine. I had to get a new phone.”

“I talked to Hannah Martins, and to the police. Jared, what’s going on?”

Jared froze. What had Hannah told his mom? How _much_ had she told? Oh god, she knew about the baby. 

“Jared? Honey, if you’re in some kind of trouble, we can work it out.”

“No, no trouble. I’m not in trouble.” Shit. That was convincing.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. 

Jared inhaled, waited for more but there was only silence on the other end of the line. 

“Mom? Sorry for what?”

“All this, everything with your dad and . . . I haven’t been there for you. I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in trying to –”

“Mom, no. That not . . . that has nothing to do with this. It’s not your fault.” Jared’s throat tightened and he stopped talking. 

“Are you sure you’re safe right now? Is everything okay with the baby?”

And there it was. Jared had been waiting for it, but hearing his mom actually say it made Jared cringe. He slumped over on the couch coving his eyes with one hand. Fucking hell, he’d thought having her ask about sex ed in junior high had been embarrassing. “Everything fine, mom,” Jared mumbled, and immediately added, “How’s everyone there? How’s dad doing?” 

“The girls are great. Excited to see gram and poppy. We’re flying out this weekend, so I’ll be in New York early next week. I couldn’t–”

“Wait, what?” Jared struggled back upright in the soft leather couch, feeling a turtle trying to get off its back. His mom was coming here? No, not good. 

“Mom, you don’t have to come out here.” After losing their house, Jared’s mom and sisters had been staying with his mom’s cousin in Michigan City. He didn’t know how she was dealing with the family debt and working to take care of the girls, but she couldn’t afford plane tickets to Seattle, or time off work for New York. 

And then there was the whole problem of Jensen and the kidnapping and the baby and oh god _Jensen._

“Of course I’m coming. I just have to get the girls to your grandparents. Ray can’t watch the girls, he’s on night shift right now.”

“Mom, you can’t afford it.” It felt like a shitty thing to say, but Jared was almost annoyed he had to be the one to say it. 

“Let me worry about that.”

Jared laughed, a ragged, choked sound. “I’m not supposed to _worry_?” Really? After he’d dropped out of school, worked full time, gotten himself into deep shit times a hundred, he wasn’t supposed to worry? 

“Jared . . .”

“No. Look, mom? I’m fine. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a while now.” Jared took a deep breathe. “I don’t want you to come. Stay with Heather and Beth. They’re the ones who need you.” The bitterness wasn’t in his head, but somehow it seeped out into Jared’s words. The itch of helpless embarrassment and frustration was safer, easier as anger. 

“You’re pregnant, and you were kidnaped off some highway in Idaho. What were you even doing there? This is not safe, Jared.” She was shouting now, and Jared’s stomach curled with the same guilt and anger he’d felt hearing the shouted arguments between his parents, voices rising and falling behind closed doors, increasing in regularity Jared’s junior year of high school.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one in prison! I’m not the one taking money from their kid because I can’t even rent a fucking house!”

Dead silence greeted Jared’s outburst. Jared felt gutted, all the resentment he thought he’d gotten over bubbling up. 

Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Jensen was standing in the living room entryway, wearing a leather jacket, sunglasses in one hand, watching Jared. 

“I have to go,” Jared said, his voice rough. “I’ll call you later.” He ended the call before his mom could respond. 

“Everything okay?” Jensen asked, strolling across the room to the sideboard, spinning the cabinet open for a glass. 

If Jensen had regular work hours, Jared still hadn’t figured them out. If the outside light wasn’t still strong through the huge windows, Jared might have thought time was slipping again, but it was only two in the afternoon.

“Fine,” Jared said. He used the couch armrest to heave himself to standing. For being underweight, he was stilling carrying enough disproportionate pounds to fuck with his balance.

“Your mom?” 

Jared didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it, but he wanted a way to purge the whole conversation, something to erase it. 

“Yeah.” Jared turned his phone over in his good hand, the metal case slick with sweat. Even in the cool apartment, he was damp under his t-shirt, the stress of the conversation hitting him harder than he expected. 

“You’re not usually around at this time.”

Jensen turned the glass in his fingers. “Figured we could go out, get something to eat.”

Jared wasn’t hungry, his stomach still in knots, but he cleared his throat and nodded. “Let’s go.”

While Jensen finished his drink Jared went upstairs to find his shoes, brush his teeth, change his shirt. He avoided his reflection in the mirror, anger and guilt still heating his skin and pumping with his heartbeat. 

Jensen followed him out of the apartment and into the elevator. The ride down to the garage was silent. Jensen’s sunglasses were back in place and he was chewing gum. From the corner of his eye Jared watched the movement of Jensen’s jaw, the flex under a thick cover of stubble. He’d never seen Jensen use gum before, and then he realized it was probably nicotine gum. Jared looked down at the floor, feeling a dumb blush of pleased pride. 

Jensen’s regular car wasn’t there, and O’Connell was nowhere to be seen. Jensen held open the passenger door of a dark silver Corvette with a hood vent. Parked next to it was the blue Bugatti and Jared almost wanted to ask if they could take it instead. 

He folded himself into the car seat, watched Jensen walked around to the driver’s side. 

“You’re driving? Didn’t know you actually could,” Jared said when Jensen dropped into the seat. 

Jensen tilted his head, mirrored glasses catching Jared’s reflection. The corner of his mouth tilted into a smile. “Smart-ass.”

“We could take my car, then I could drive.”

Jensen pressed the ignition and the engine started with roar. “Don’t think so.”

The place Jensen took Jared to had outside dining overlooking the Hudson, the tables shaded and the breeze keeping it from being too hot. Jensen lost the jacket, leaving him in a dark t-shirt that pulled tight over his shoulders and biceps. Jared wasn’t sure which was better, Jensen looking so fuckable, or the amazing food Jared was regaining an appetite for. Jared’s tension melted away, letting him slip back into the present, dissolving the sliver of his past life that had stabbed deep with his mom’s phone call. 

It wasn’t till _There Will Be Blood_ was playing on the TV and Jared was half asleep, sprawled over one side of the bed, his foot just brushing Jensen’s thigh that he realized this was probably their first real date. God, that was weird. Maybe that would have made sense five months ago, but now it was obvious dating was not their thing.

Jensen was chewing gum again, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed on the screen. 

_“Stop crying, you sniveling ass. Stop your nonsense,”_ Daniel said to Eli. 

“What are we naming him?” 

Jensen glanced at Jared. “Him?”

“The baby.” _Our baby._

Jensen looked back at the screen. “Whatever you want.”

“You might regret that.”

Jensen’s brows furrowed. “No weird theater names or any of that shit.”

“I thought you said anything I want.”

“That’s the caveat.”

Jared rolled over, hiding his grin in the pillows. 

He didn’t think about his mom again till he woke up in the middle of the night and Jensen was gone. Alone on the cool sheets Jared wondered where Jensen was, and like that was a plug pulled, every piece of debris in his life came floating up after. 

Jensen was back the next morning, like he’d never been gone. Jared woke up with Jensen’s naked body kneeling over him, Jensen’s tongue tracing the line of his jaw. Jared was reaching before he was even fully awake, morning wood working towards a raging erection as his fingers brushed over soft skin and hard muscle. 

Jensen bit at Jared’s chin, teeth scraping over the skin. Jared tried catch Jensen’s mouth in a kiss, but Jensen pulled back.

“You up to going to a funeral?”

What the fuck? “God, you suck at talking dirty,” Jared groaned. 

Jensen grinned. “This is a family friendly affair, only very discreet fucking allowed.”

Jared rolled over flat on his back, his spin twinging with the position. Jensen had his arms braced on either side of Jared’s head. Looking down at Jared he seemed happy, relaxed, rested. Not really like someone heading off to bury a friend. 

“I’m a master of discreet,” Jared said. Jensen was really distracting, hovering so close, looking so pretty.

Jensen laughed outright, like that was really fucking funny. “Come on,” he said, rolling off Jared. “Get your ass out of bed or you’ll be late.”

— 

The Church of Saint John the Divine sounded so deeply and mystically religious, Jared was having a hard time connecting something like that with the McNulty’s. But it was grand, beautiful in the bright summer sunlight, a cathedral for royalty. Criminal royalty. 

Jared had been there once before for a concert his junior year of college. Just like it had then, Jared felt like he was touring a historical site, not attending a funeral.

As the cavalcade rolled up there were already people making their way from cars and into the church. Men in suits, women in summer-appropriate funeral attire. The steps and the sidewalk directly in front of the church had been cordoned of with steel barricades and there were two police officers, once standing on either side, casual as they watched the half a dozen spectators gathered behind the railing. Jared saw long lenses of cameras held at the ready and at least one guy had the shoulder rig for a professional film camera. He hadn’t even considered that the press would be there. A few cameras swung towards the hearse, and someone yelled something, faint and indecipherable from inside the car. 

“Fucking parasites,” Jensen said. He head was tilted, watching the grouped observers. O’Connell glided the car up into line, letting Jensen and Jared out in from of the church steps. Ahead of them the hearse pulled through metal gates, leading around the side of the cathedral. Out in the street, officers were directing traffic around the slow moving line of cars dropping off their passengers.

It was Mark who stepped up and opened the car door. Jensen got out and stepped back, waiting for Jared. Outside it was warm and bright, the breeze moving the leaves on the trees and blowing Jared’s hair into his eyes. A camera flash flared in the corner of his vision and when Jared turned, a telephoto was pointed straight at him. As Jared watched, the photographer snapped a few more shots.

Jensen moved in close, his sleeve just brushing Jared’s arm, replacing the hot, summer smell with something subtle and expensive. “Ignore them,” Jensen murmured. He stepped away from Jared, towards hearse. 

Jared turned away, still aware of the photographers in the corner of his vision. Mark was hovering just over Jared’s left shoulder, but Jared ignored him. He really hadn’t expected attending a funeral to feel like opening night in front of a hostile audience. With the hot summer morning radiating up from the pavement, the traffic moving slow through the mourners streaming into the church, the fitful breeze - it didn’t fit. 

The other pallbearers were standing with Jensen behind the hearse. Michael McNulty, Terry Reagan, three other guys Jared didn’t know. Cillian wasn’t there. Jensen had said he couldn’t risk appearing in public. Jared assumed that meant there was something criminal involved, but Cillian’s absence worked just fine for him.

Andrea was exiting her car, and she caught Jared’s look, a faint smile curving her red lips. Her gaze kept moving, and when it focused on something down the street, Jared followed it. 

A trio of men was approaching on the walk, and the photographers were turning, their cameras going off in quick succession. All three men were wearing suits, but only the guy in the middle was wearing black, and he held his hands in front of himself, together at the wrist. Jared realized he was cuffed and the two guys flanking him were probably police escorts.

They were blocked from sight by another car, and when it moved Jared saw they were having some kind of discussion beside the gate. Then the funeral director was there, saying something, motioning at the guy in cuffs, and then a group of funeral attendees blocked Jared’s view.

The guy was obviously a McNulty family member. Maybe James’ son. He had the same dark hair and eyes as the rest of McNulty men. Jared guessed he was just a few years older than Jared himself. And attending a relative’s funeral in cuffs. God, how did people live like this?

Jared turned as someone moved up beside him. It was Andrea, close enough to smell her perfume. Bre was on her other side, the girls with their nanny behind them. Jared realized he’d been standing there like a lost kid. 

“Family follows the casket in,” Andrea said, and it took Jared a second to realize she meant he should accompany them. 

As they passed through the doors the temperature dropped half a dozen degrees. The sickly sweet smell of flowers hit Jared almost immediately. The whole place was filled with white roses and lilies, endless flower arrangements leading up to the alter. Jared’s stomach lurched and he tried not to breathe through his nose. Worst possible timing.

So of course the service passed with excruciating slowness. After the casket was in place, Jensen and the other pallbearers joined the family at the front, with the exception of the handcuffed guy. The second the casket was settled the two suits were stepping up, herding the guy away from everyone. The row they chose stayed empty as the ushers seated people, leaving a conspicuous space around them. 

Jensen took the seat next to Jared, and Jared leaned in close enough to ask, “Who’s the guy with the cuffs?”

Jensen didn’t seem too happy with the question, but he answered anyway. “Kelly, Michael’s kid.”  
He didn’t say anything else after that, and spent most of the service frowning.

Even with the flowers, the whole thing was interesting. There was a chamber orchestra that played. A lot of people got up to speak, but they were all brief. A unreasonable number of wonderful things were said about James Carey McNulty, but the closest anyone got to mentioning crime was to fondly reminisce about how wild Jamie was in his youth. The hundreds of people in attendance all seemed in agreement with the praise.

Jared watched them all, an interloper, feeling nothing amongst grieving people. It wasn’t like the wake. People cried openly and Jared almost felt guilty for witnessing it. The guy in cuffs, Kelly, leaned his elbows on his knees, folded hands pressed against his mouth. Jared wasn’t sure if he looked angry or near tears. It was an expression weirdly similar to Jensen’s. 

Just about the time Jared was getting used to the smell of flowers, it was over. The orchestra seated behind the alter played _The Parting Glass_ as the casket was carried from the church.

The guests exited the church slowly, little groups forming and breaking apart, exchanging condolences. Jensen was lost in the crowd, but Mark stuck with Jared like it was his life mission. At least Jared wasn’t the only one with a bodyguard. It seemed half of the guests were being shadowed, having their car doors opened and being shielded from cameras. The crowd behind the barricades had grown during the service.

Near the bottom of the steps Michael and Andrea McNulty were talking with a woman wearing a hat with tulle veil. There were two dark-suited men standing behind her, sunglasses hiding their eyes from the midday sunlight like Hollywood bodyguards. 

Jared was trying to think of where he’d seen the woman before (Deputy Mayor, he discovered later, and was duly impressed.) when a raised voice broke out behind him and someone stumbled past him, clipping his shoulder. 

A tall, skinny guy with short blond hair almost went down the steps head first, just catching himself, half turned back the direction he’d came stumbling from. 

Mark was there, a solid wall, moving Jared away, just as someone shouted, “I’m gonna fuck you up!”

The blond guy staggered upright in time to get a fist in the face, and this time he did take the quick way down the stairs. Mark was blocking Jared’s view, but he caught flash of the attacker - vest, but no suit jacket, tattoos crawling up his hands and under the thick ring on his middle finger - just as someone else grabbed him from behind. 

“I’ll tear your fucking head off,” the guy screamed, and Mark kept moving Jared away. The other guests were doing the same thing, spreading out, leaving the fight. Police officers were on their way over, one of them heading for the blond guy who was curled on his side halfway down the steps, but trying to rise.

Jared caught a glimpse of Jensen, striding along a step towards the instigator, Burny following him one step up. Jared grabbed Mark’s arm, trying to stop their retreat as other guests jostled them.

It went so fast, Jared really had no idea what actually happened. One of the handrails was between Burny and the guy who was still struggling in a headlock from who Jared could now see was Dekker. Burny never broke stride. And then the guy wasn’t in a headlock, he was slipping off the metal handrail like a wet rag, crumpling to the steps, clutching at his face. 

Jared still hadn’t caught up with what had happened when Jensen leaned over, grabbing the guy’s hand to haul him to his feet. When he couldn’t hold himself up, Dekker grabbed him around the waist, and Burny moved in on the other side.

Jensen left them and jogged down the steps to where the blond guy was being helped up by a police officer and a few guests. As he passed Jared and Mark there was the briefest glance, the slightest tilt of Jensen’s head in acknowledgment. 

Jared realized Mark’s shoulder was still pressed against his chest and stepped back, pulling his gaze away from Jensen.

“What was that about?”

Mark moved, returning Jared’s personal space. “He’s James’ ex.”

Jared looked at Mark. Mark was watching the blond guy limp away with a police officer’s help. “That guy?” 

Mark nodded. 

“So who’s the other guy? Another ex?” 

Mark’s face was unamused. “Reid. James’ guy.”

“Sure he’s not an ex? That looked like the guy version of a cat fight.”

“Reid’s just looking for someone to hate right now. The ex broke up with James’ a month after he got his prognosis, so there’s that.” 

“Car’s here. C’mon,” Mark said, like he was sick of the conversation. True enough, though. Jensen’s car was pulling up behind the other vehicles at the curb. The fight had broken up the atmosphere, and even though there were still people exiting the church, they weren’t stopping to talk.

Once Mark had Jared all tucked away inside air conditioned comfort, he disappeared, leaving Jared to wait for Jensen. 

The drive through the city felt endless, cars caravanning the hearse, a funeral march of expensive metal and tinted windows. Jensen was restless, the movement of his fingers, the clench of his jaw was the equivalent of twitchy for Jensen.

“There’s an after party. You up for that?”

Jared looked at Jensen as Jensen watched the city outside the window. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Jensen just nodded. “Alright.”

Jared felt there was something else, underneath that, but they were already to the cemetary, and he left it.

The party was smaller, and it was easy to spot the black dodge Charger already parked, waiting for them. As soon as the hearse rolled to a stop, the driver and passenger doors of the Charger opened simultaneously. The two grey-suited guys got out, walking around to open the back passenger door. 

Squinting against the bright sunlight, the handcuffed guy, Kelly, stumbled out of the car. He looked a little worse for wear, his clothes wrinkled and his hair standing up like he’d been running his hands through it. It had to suck spending the day in cuffs, locked in a car with your guards. Not that Jared really felt sympathetic. He didn’t doubt the guy deserved the prison sentence.

Kelly McNulty joined the other pallbearers, his escorts sticking close, looking faintly uncomfortable. And Jared realized the burial party was almost exclusively McNulty people. Stranger, somehow he was on the inside looking out at the two plainclothes cops.

“Don’t suppose you’d let me lay my uncle to rest as a whole man.” 

Kelly was holding his hands out palms up. His words were childish and almost pleading, but he ruined it with a lopsided smile that was mocking. 

The cop didn’t even look at him. “You know the rules, McNulty.”

Kelly shrugged, dropped his hands and stepped towards the hearse. Yeah, he fit right in with the rest of the group, Jared thought.

They laid James McNulty to rest under the afternoon sun, beating down hot on black clothing. There were two bagpipers in attendance who played. No one laid flowers, but they all stepped forward and grabbed a handful of dirt to toss down on the shiny wood lid. Even the little kids did it, and when it was time Jared tossed his own handful. It was quite possibly the weirdest thing he’d done since first taking that job at The Jade Room. In one second it was stark and horrifying - he was in a graveyard with a group of near strangers, helping bury a man he’d never met while standing next to a man he hardly knew whose kid he was going to have. 

It spread like a deep bruise in Jared’s mind, but the feeling dissolved almost as fast as it came. And then it was just a hot day in a green, summer cemetery. Burial was a lonely thing. 

After tossing the dirt, the service was over and some of the guests left. The McNulty’s, and a handful of other people Jared didn’t know, stayed to watch the grave filled. So did Jensen, which of course meant Jared did too. By the time it was done, he was feeling a little foggy from the heat and bright sunlight.

“Hey, Jared,” Jensen called, and Jared looked up. Jensen had moved away, was standing beside Kelly and his guards while still maintaining a respectful distance. For mobsters, everyone seemed more than ready to treat the police cautiously.

Kelly was watching Jared with a honest curiosity. A step up from the sleezy over from Cillian or the overly familiar introduction to Michael. 

“Kelly, this is Jared,” Jensen said when Jared got close. “Jared, Kelly.”

“I’d shake, but . . .” Kelly held up his hands, tugged at the cuffs. “Officer Fogel might bite if there’s touching involved.” Kelly grinned at Jared. “It gets him all excited.” 

Jared’s laugh was startled out of him, and then he felt bad for laughing at the cop like that, but he didn’t look too bothered, maybe a little annoyed, mostly resigned. 

“I wont risk it,” Jared said. 

Andrea didn’t give a fuck about rules, apparently. She stepped right in, pulling Kelly into a hug and for the first time both cops looked at a loss as to what to do. Andrea was wearing five inch heels, but she still only came to Kelly’s shoulder. Before either of the officers should remove her from their charge, she let go and stepped back on her own, not even giving either one of the cop the barest acknowledgment.

Jared moved back to give them a bit more room, and his vertigo slid sideways. Moved too fast, swayed a little, and Jensen’s hand landed on the small of his back, steadying. 

“Okay?” Jensen asked, and before Jared could respond, he was being half-led back towards the cars. 

“I’m fine,” he said, delayed. 

“You don’t look fine,” Jensen said, and then he was pushing Jared down into the backseat of the car. He went around to the front, started the engine and turned the AC on full blast. Jared gave up protesting how he felt and dropped his head back, breathing slow and deep as the cool air washed over him. Wasn’t all the sick, dizzy, weak stuff supposed to be over with by now?

The front door opened and closed, then the back door opened and Jensen was sliding onto the seat next to Jared. 

“I’ll take you home. Mark can stay with you.”

Jared frowned, stretched his legs as far as space allowed. “I said I’m fine. It’s just really fucking hot out there. If it’s not hot I’ll be fine.”

Jensen didn’t say anything else and Jared ignored the headache that was blooming behind his eyes. 

They stopped by Jensen’s apartment anyway. Jared changed clothes and drank two bottles of water. He felt lethargic and slightly irritable. The whole day had kept him on edge, left him unable to relax. But he’d survived this far, no way he was bowing out right before the food showed up. 

The restaurant was on the upper east side and the McNulty’s had reserved the entirety of the second and third floors, as well as the rooftop bar. With people moving around, taking a cocktail hour before dinner was served, it was hard to tell how many were actually there, but Jared guessed a few hundred. The added (non-McNulty) company actually made it more enjoyable and Jared found he was having fun meeting people. His social enjoyment weren’t permanently damaged after all. It wasn’t till he was talking to a woman who was the treasure for a charity James McNulty had chaired that it occurred to Jared that all these people were either involved in crime, or being horribly duped. It kind of ruined the conversation for him. 

By the time everyone left the roof to sit down to dinner, the company was much livelier, far less somber. The benefits of an open bar. Jared was just tired. He at because he knew he needed to, but as it broke up and most everyone was returning to roof, Jared caught Jensen. 

“I’m gonna catch a cab to the apartment.”

Jensen looked up, eyes bright. Even in the dim lightening Jared could track the pulse in his throat, beating high on alcohol. 

“No, have O’Connell take you.” Jensen twisted around, trying to locate his driver. “He’ll stay. I’ll take a cab home.”

It annoyed Jared a little, how even leaving couldn’t be simple. “I don’t need him around, and I don’t need a ride. I think I can get myself all the way to your apartment without help.”

The annoyance, the sarcasm slid right off Jensen’s alcohol-lubricated brain. Or maybe it just swallowed it in and smothered it. He looked at Jared, stupidly serious. “Yeah, but you don’t need to anymore.”

Yes, he’d missed the point entirely. Jared sighed. “I’ll find him. G’night.” He gave a halfhearted wave and didn’t wait for Jensen’s response. His headache spiked a deep throb and Jared squinted against the pain. 

O’Connell - dependable, perpetually sober O’Connell - was at last located on the third floor. When Jared told him Jensen wanted him to take Jared home, O’Connell first checked his phone, like he was clearing his schedule. Then he nodded to Jared and got up to lead the way down. In the elevator Jared leaned into the cool wall and closed his eyes against the pain in his head. Jared was pretty sure he could blame it for leaving the restaurant without his jacket, which wouldn’t have been so bad, it’s not like he’d paid for it or couldn’t but another suit, but his phone was in the pocket. He wasn’t so much attached to the phone as to the contacts with afforded him. Anytime he thought about it he both hoped for a dreaded a call from his mom, but still couldn’t leave the phone behind, a possible unknown text or call hanging in the back of his mind.

“Wait, I forgot my jacket, we need to go back.”

O’Connell keep right on driving. “I’‘ll let Jensen know to look out for it.”

“No, it has my phone, I need that.” Jared straightened from his sprawl in the back seat, leaning forward. “Sorry, but it wont take long. Please,” he added, a little sharp.

O’Connell didn’t fight it, just turned off, heading back.

He pulled up outside and Jared stumbled out of the car. Past conscientious restaurant staff, Jared took the elevator to the third floor, envisioning his jacket draped across the back of his dinner chair. No missed calls, hopefully. He didn’t have anything new to say to his mom, and a few things he would like to take back. 

There was a sound like someone moaning, just as Jared rounded the turn of the hall, and there was no time to react to the noise before sight was taking over, and then Jared stopped dead. 

Jensen was leaning against the wall, legs spread, pants undone. There was a guy kneeling between his feet, his head blocking a view of Jensen’s crotch, his hands disappearing beneath Jesnen’s shirt. Jared didn’t need to see to know what was happening, Jensen’s hands in the guy’s short hair, guiding the motion.

Jared didn’t make a noise, he didn’t have to. Jensen’s eye blinked open, hazy with lust, mouth open, pulling in heavy breathes like he did right before he came. Jensen looked right at Jared.

“Jared,” Jensen’s slurred, voice husky.

The guy who was blowing him pulled back, breaking free of Jensen’s hands as they unclenched. The guy looked up over his shoulder, straight at Jared, eyes vivid blue, his mouth bright red, and Jared’s brain was blank for a moment as the guy brought an arm up, wiping milky white away from his lip and chin, his tongue following the motion. 

There was a new rule for Jared’s life. It was simple. Nothing good ever lasted, because it wasn’t actually good, it was actually fucking fake shit and he would always find that out sooner than later. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when the Jensen of the past week turned out to be a blindside.


	16. His Id

“Is there a line?” the guy said, then his gaze dropped to Jared’s middle, his obviously pregnant state, and he rocked back on his heels, away from Jensen.

“Shit,” he hissed, scrambling to his feet. “I’m sorry man, he –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jared said. The guy shut up. 

“Leave.” Jared wanted to slam the guy’s pretty face into the wall once or twice, smash up that straight nose and those shiny teeth. “Leave!”

The guy scrambled up, not looking at Jensen. He ducked around Jared, heading towards the elevator. 

Jensen didn’t move, didn’t ever try to cover up. His head was still tilted back against the wall, body lax. He half grinned at Jared. “You gonna get down here and finish the job?” he panted. 

God, Jared hated him. Hated him so fucking much. It was the alley all over again, Jared waiting for his turn, just another whore on Jensen’s string. Jared’s skin heated under a rush of sick rage. Everything had been a joke. The promise to raise the kid, the proposal of marriage - it was just Jensen fucking around with him, getting his rocks off.

“I’ll finish the fucking job. Give me your knife.”

Jensen groaned, moving one hand to cup his hard dick, palm the head, wet and shiny. “The fuck’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Jared was shaking, could feel his legs going numb. He’d never wanted to hurt someone more than his wanted to hurt Jensen right then. He didn’t want to punch him, he wanted to crush him. “You’re shoving your dick down some punk’s throat, you piece of shit. I leave and two seconds later you’re – ”

Jared’s words broke, choking on hot, thick fluid rolling down the back of his throat. He tasted blood, and something tickled his upper lip. Jared wiped at it, smearing it warm and wet over his mouth. 

“Hey.” Jensen had his dick tucked away, but his pants were still unbuttoned, his shirt half open. He looked stupid like that. Drunk, stupid shit, trying to act concerned for Jared. 

“Stay away from me or I’ll break your fucking face,” Jared said, wiping the blood from his nose again, painting his hand red. 

“Jesus Christ, Jared.” Jensen sounded significantly less drunk, now. He ignored Jared’s warning - of course he fucking did - and when he reached for Jared, Jared knocked his arm away, hard. 

Jared wasn’t done, but the blood was still coming. His heart was too fast and his head throbbing in time to the beat. High blood pressure, nose bleeds - that was a thing that could happen during pregnancy, it wasn’t a huge problem, but now looking down at his hand Jared had this sick mental image of his insides - his baby - liquefying, running out his mouth and nose. 

“What’d you do to yourself now,” Jensen said, and he sounded genuinely worried. 

“Fuck. You,” Jared forced out. “You don’t get to play both sides.” Jared swallowed the thick, metallic taste. _So stupid to forget who Jensen really was. So fucking stupid of him._

The wall behind Jared was further away than he thought, and he stumbled to lean against it. He tilted his head back, pinching his nose shut to slow the bleeding. 

“You’re pissed about the kid?” Jensen was a blurry shape in the corner of Jared’s vision. “He’s just some rent boy. What’s – ”

“Shut up, shut your stupid fucking mouth you cheating piece of shit!” Jared couldn’t breathe through his nose, couldn’t really breathe much at all, like his body was disagreeing with the whole situation. 

Jensen kind of laughed, without humor. “It never bothered you before.”

Jared sucked in air. It was like Salt Lake City all over again, Jensen doing fucked-up shit and then acting confused when people called him on it. “There is something . . .” Breathe, breathe. “Something really wrong with you,” Jared said. He straightened up, let go of his face to look straight at Jensen. The asshole was still sporting a hard on under his pants. 

“You ask me to marry you and then you shove your dick down some other guy’s throat. You’re so fucked up, that seems normal?” 

Jensen looked more pissed than confused now. “It’s just fucking.”

Jared choked out an angry laugh. “You are such a clueless piece of trash, I can’t believe I – ”

Jensen moved fast, getting up in Jared’s space, grinding him into the wall with an arm over his collarbone. Jensen’s body pressed against Jared’s was trembling. 

“I’m not taking that shit, even from you,” Jensen hissed, alcohol heavy on his breath. 

“Right back at you, asshole,” Jared panted, even as warnings were sparking under his skin, an animal sixth sense that wanted to act. 

Jensen’s jaw worked, a ripple of muscle. Faces inches apart, the smell of blood and alcohol mixing between them, Jared stared Jensen down, letting the anger and shame feed him. He worked his own arm up behind Jensen’s wrist, shoved back. 

For a second Jared thought Jensen was going to make it a real fight, but then he stepped back. “Fuck,” he breathed, muffled by the hand moving over his mouth. 

“You’ve been fucking other people with whole time.” Jared’s voice didn’t even sound like his own. Goddammit, if Jensen said yes, if he said yes . . . 

There was a long silence, Jensen just standing there, not looking at Jared. Then he said, “They’re whores. I pay them to get me off.” He shrugged, like there was nothing more to it.

Jared didn’t look away. Money and sex. X-boxes and cars. He was just another nobody for Jensen. “Yeah, isn’t that what I am?” 

Jensen’s eyes moved up to Jared’s face, bright green color in blood-shot white. He looked upset. “That’s what you were supposed to be,” Jensen said. “That got fucked right out of the gate.” 

Jared couldn’t tell if he meant that as a good thing or a bad thing. “What, I’m special now? Just not special enough to keep you from slumming it.”

Jensen’s lips parted, his eyebrows rose, a moment of clarity. “You’re jealous,” he said. The fucker almost smiled. 

Jared wasn’t fucking _jealous._ He wasn’t. “Of what? The nameless fukcs or your slutty, cheating ass?” He shoved past Jensen, continuing down the hall. For some reason his original mission seemed of great importance now. 

“Jared,” Jensen called, but Jared ignored him. 

There were restaurant staff clearing off some of the tables and they gave Jared a few long looks as he passed. Probably the blood, maybe the shouting, Jared didn’t give a fuck. His coat was right where he’d left it, and he grabbed it with his less-bloody hand. 

Jensen was gone when Jared passed through the hall again. Jared felt relieved and regretful at the same time, gutted with burnt-out anger; he’d lost this one before the game even began.

When he dropped into the car seat Jared saw O’Connel watching him in the mirror, but O’Connell didn’t comment, just did his job. Jared made no token protest against returning to Jensen’s apartment. Running away was bullshit, it didn’t solve anything, especially with someone like Jensen. 

Jared leaned his aching head against the window and closed his eyes. The blood drying on his skin itched and his throat was sour with it. The pain in his head was running through his cheekbones, and around his eye socket, skull deep. It took Jared a while to notice the fluttering sensation he’d been ignoring and then he realized it was the baby moving, harder than it ever had before. 

Goddammit. Jared rolled his head away from the window glass, leaned back in the soft seat. The lights blurred in the corner of his vision. He didn’t want to think about the kid right now. If he did he would probably resent it, and that was fucked up. 

When they got to Jensen’s building O’Connell had to take Jared up in the elevator because Jared didn’t have keys. He didn’t follow Jared into the apartment, though, and there was no one waiting to babysit Jared. Literally the first time Jared had ever been alone in Jensen’s apartment and it just made everything that much worse. 

He stripped off his bloody shirt, followed it with the rest of his clothes, and walked into the bathroom. There was blood on his cast, red turning to rust. The plastic wrap made it look almost black. 

The hot water worked away at the tension headache and when Jared heard his phone buzzing against the tile floor from inside his jacket, he ignored it. Forever under hot water didn’t wash off anything but blood. Jared leaned against the shower wall, half asleep, but feeling he’d never be able to sleep again, a tight tangle of ugly thoughts and feelings anchoring him like a stone. 

When Jared went downstairs, Rick was sitting in the living room, watching TV and drinking something called Black Tuesday. Jensen had sent over a babysitter after all. 

Rick looked up, watching Jared pass, eyes scanning him like he was looking for something. Signs of near death, maybe. Jared ignored Rick and headed into the kitchen, leaving the lights off. The floor felt too cold against Jared’s bare feet and his head reminded him of all the drugs he couldn’t take. For a long moment he stood in the dim room, not even sure why he’d come down, none of it seeming worthwhile anymore. He’d had worse days, probably, but it didn’t really seem like it, now. Why did he let Jensen fuck with his life like this?

It was like a metaphor for his life, standing in a dark kitchen, eating Kettle chips and forcing down water and vitamins he didn’t want, wearing boxer short he didn’t buy. It somehow translated to the thought, _I’m doing way too much for him already._

After some sleep, it made more sense. Jared woke up and the realization rolled out, still tasting like a dream. Jared had been too busy trying to pretend it didn’t make him feel like shit to be so dependant; he hadn’t really considered that accepting everything Jensen gave him was giving Jensen a certain status. It’s not like Jared let people give him stuff, he’d been pretty self-sufficient since leaving home. Jensen wanted to be a certain thing to Jared, and Jared had let him. Now Jared was going to be a certain thing to Jensen. 

“Fucking asshole,” Jared said to the shadowy ceiling. Hindsight made it impossible for Jared to remember when he’d stopped being able to tolerate Jensen fucking other people. There had to be a time when it hadn’t mattered, but now even the thought pissed Jared off.  
He lay sprawled out, squinting up at the ceiling, still drugged with sleep, but already back to the memory of Jensen in that hallway, getting angry all over again. He’d assumed Jensen was operating by the tacit Western code of relationships: don’t fuck other people once you’ve asked someone to marry you. Obviously not. If Jared stopped assuming anything, ever, maybe shit would be easier in the long run.

— 

Jensen hadn’t shown up while Jared slept. Downstairs, Rick was still hanging around like a bad memory, sitting at the kitchen table with a book, eating cereal even though it was past noon. Jared looked through the cupboards and refrigerator, decided to order takeout, and then ate three bagels and an apple while waiting for it to arrive. When the concierge called to notify him of delivery, Rick wouldn’t let Jared go down and get it. He lumbered up from the table to go do it himself. Jared watched him go, then leaned across the table to see what kind of cereal Rick was eating. It looked like miniature cookies swimming in sugary milk. Rick had to be older than Jensen, and he ate like a five year old. 

“Where’s Jensen?” Jared asked when Rick returned and set Jared’s food in front of him.

Rick went back to his side of the table and then watched Jared add ranch dressing to his chow mein, like it was too distracting for him to answer. 

“Tied up with work,” he finally said. 

_Bullshit,_ Jared wanted to say. Not like it really mattered, though. Unless he was literally signing a marriage license with someone other than Jared, right now, Jared decided it didn’t fucking _matter._

Yeah, right. 

He left Rick and the mess of take-out boxes and went upstairs to shower. When he stepped back into the bedroom dripping wet and wrapped in a towel, Jensen was sitting on the bed, waiting for him, like a conjured item. ABC news was playing on the TV, volume low, but when Jared stopped in the bathroom doorway, Jensen looked up, remote in hand, and pressed mute. 

Jared wished he could ignore Jensen, but immediately all he wanted to do was say shit, get a reaction, make Jensen as angry as he made Jared. It sucked he was too tired and fucked to think of anything really good.

“You okay?” Jensen asked. He sounded completely casual, but he was asking. 

“Fucking perfect,” Jared said. He walked past Jensen to the closet, snapping on the lights and letting the door swing half closed behind him. Jared had boxers on and was drying his hair when Jensen pushed the door open. He didn’t come in, just stood in the doorway, blocking Jared’s exit.

“You got something to say to me?”

It made irritation crawl under Jared’s skin. Jensen was the one who had something to answer for, not Jared. He’d never been very diplomatic when he was pissed, so he said, “You fuck around with someone else ever again and I’m done with you.”

Okay, that worked. There was no way anyone could misunderstand. But Jensen was watching Jared with a face so expressionless Jared wasn’t sure if any of it had registered. They both stood there, locked in a weird kind of stare down. 

Jensen ducked his head, not fast enough to hide the grin, the flash of teeth, and creases at the corners of his eyes. He brushed two fingers over his upper lip, still grinning, not looking at Jared. “Is that all?”

Jared teetered between angry and relieved, not sure if Jensen was mocking him or agreeing to the ultimatum. Jared couldn’t - wouldn’t - take it back. Maybe Jensen wouldn’t either. 

Jared felt a flicker of something that tasted like panic - he hadn’t actually considered the possibility of Jensen dumping him over this demand. He’d been too pissed to think that far. Before he could do or say anything, Jensen looked up, the smile fading.

“That’ll go both ways. You get that?” Jensen’s mouth was still relaxing from a smile, but his eyes were totally flat and opaque, way too fucking serious for that sentence. 

Jared breathed in and out, suddenly aware of how cold the room’s air was on his damp skin, the wet hair sticking to his neck. “I’m not the one who pays for blow jobs in skeevy alleys.”

Jensen glanced to the side, a odd smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. 

Jared was expecting more, but Jensen turned away, leaving like the conversation was over. He stopped halfway, tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. He didn’t look at Jared when he said, “You ever do you’ll have some poor fuck’s death on your conscience.” 

Jared stood, words trying to take shape in this throat. How the fuck did Jensen always end up putting Jared on defensive? “Maybe just give me a straight answer. I’m not going to try and read between all that bullshit.”

“Yeah, that was a straight answer.” Jensen was smiling, but he sounded a little pissed, and the was making Jared pissed. Maybe he got was he asked for, but it kind of felt like he hadn’t gotten anything. 

“Good. Great. Now I can have my doctor test for STIs tomorrow.” _And if we have a fucked up kid . . ._ Jared yanked a t-shirt over his head. His worries were turning morbid again. 

When he pulled his shirt down and shook wet hair away from his face, Jensen was gone. The bedroom was empty, too. Jared refused to care. He retrieved his clothes from the bathroom floor, turning the jacket over to free his phone. 

There were five missed calls from his mom and two texts. Jared opened the latest. 

_flying in Sunday afternoon_  
will text when I get there  
statying at Gravescourt hotel rm # 334  
Jared pls call me 


	17. What You Have

The sky was heavy gray Sunday morning, and by afternoon is was raining. Jared sat in front of the window and watched the city fade out into a watery grey. He was sick of the apartment, sick of doctors, really fucking sick and tired of Jensen’s guys. 

Jared turned his phone over, reading the text for the tenth time in one hour. He’d called his mom, they’d talked, saying nothing. When she asked if he would meet her, Jared couldn’t say no. He was tired of trying to keep everything straight, all the different parts of his life from colliding. It would be easier to cut things apart, throw something away. But he wouldn’t. 

His mom was waiting for him at her hotel. She wanted to take him to dinner. She wanted to talk about everything Jared didn’t want to. If he went, there was no avoiding it. 

The alternative was Jensen, and Jared was in the middle of active non-communication with Jensen. It was fucking up everything, and Jared knew it, but Jensen was so too fucking calm and unaffected, like it meant nothing to him, and Jared was making up for it. But maybe he was just generally pissed. The dumbest things were setting him off, like being unable to open a jar with only one good hand, or the unexpected temperature of the shower. It was probably time to rethink where his life was going. 

“ . . . or lose it.” 

Rick was talking on his phone as he walked into the living room. He was wearing a jacket and when he moved his arm Jared caught the faint bulge of a shoulder holster.

“She doesn’t need one, she’s six.” Rick’s expression was bemused, but happy, like he had no idea what was going on, but liked it all the same. Whoever he was talking to wasn’t Jensen, or any of Jensen’s other guys. Jared was getting pretty good at figuring out what conversations were going on around him while hearing only one side. 

“I’ll try. Not tonight.” Rick paused, listening, then nodded. “I know,” he smiled, and Jared decided it was Rick’s girlfriend or wife on the end of the line. 

Rick ended the call, staring into midair, still smiling like an idiot.

Jared spun his phone on the carpet. “Girlfriend?”

Rick glanced over at Jared. “Wife.” He actually looked a little embarrassed, like admitting he was talking to his wife was giving too much away. “It’s my kid’s birthday this weekend. She’s six.”

“Wow. Kids.” Jared hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t really thought that far. Rick was Jensen’s guy, and that was kind of his whole identity in his and Jared’s limited interaction. Jared's time with Jensen had cut him off from the rest of his life and family. He’d never wondered where everyone else’s roots were, but they obviously had them. 

“Yeah, Sage is eight and Lizzy is six now.” Rick glanced around the living room like he’d misplaced something. “You decided if you – ”

“I guess I’m going.” Jared hadn’t told Rick it was his mom’s text he’d spent the afternoon staring at, just that an old friend wanted to see him. It was still weird, having someone always there, hanging in the background, ready to follow Jared out the door whether he wanted it or not. In the apartment, it was Jensen’s space, Jared didn’t really notice, but anywhere he went without Jensen the difference was glaringly obvious. It was starting feel like he had a constant stalker. 

“You don’t have to drive me.” Jared looked Rick in the eyes. “I’d actually rather you didn’t.” 

Rick didn’t seem bothered. He shrugged. “It’s raining, you might have trouble catching a cab.”

Jared had to give it to the guy. After two days of Jared acting like an asshole, Rick still hadn’t lost his temper. When Mark drove Jared to his Saturday doctor appointment he hadn’t said a word the entire time, but every inch of him had expressed his opinion that Jared was irritating. It was a fair assessment, but Jared wasn’t quite ready to take it to heart. Because, as usual, this was Jensen’s decision that Jared was being affected by. If he wanted to take a cab, why the fuck couldn’t he take a cab? There was something more going on than Jensen being a controlling dick, though Jared wasn’t sure what.

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Jared hauled himself up from the floor and headed for the stairs. As soon as he was alone in the bedroom, he sent a text to his mom to let her know he was coming. 

Rick drove the Bugatti and Jared spent the whole ride worrying about seeing his mom, worrying about his mom seeing him. The truth of how far he’d departed from _normal_ was suddenly very, very real to Jared. 

“You good?” Rick asked. They were pulling up to the hotel and Jared realized he was starting to freak out a little. He was about to respond, and for a second he couldn’t remember how much he should or shouldn’t say, how much of one life could cross over into the other, and then the moment passed. Jared didn’t say anything, just nodded and opened the car door. 

It was still raining hard and the short distance from the car to the lobby door left Jared’s hair dripping in his eyes and down the collar of his jacket. Inside was a rush of cool air and Jared shivered. A girl with a Celtic knot tattoo on the back of her neck and a pink rolling suitcase stepped into the elevator with Jared and they both rode the third floor in distracted silence. 

Two days of indecision and Jared had decided he had to give his mom what she wanted so that she’d go home. She’d see that she couldn’t convince him t.o do anything, and leave. But staring at the blank elevator doors, the hazy light reflecting his own face back, a memory floated up. When Jared was ten, he acted in his first school play. The night before the opening performance, he was so sick with nerves he couldn’t sleep. His mom had sat with him and read _The Jungle Books_ til he fell asleep, even though she’d been pregnant with Heather, tired and sick constantly. 

His mom’s life wasn’t turning out like she wanted. Her kids weren’t turning out like she wanted. Her husband had destroyed their marriage. A deep, heavy pain of guilt and sympathy pulled at Jared, and he closed his eyes, breathed out, tried not to think about his mom, alone in her hotel room waiting for him to show up. He hated that he was a piece of her misery. He hated that he wasn’t going to change, but he wished he could. Just not enough. 

She must have been waiting. The second Jared knocked, the door was yanked open and his mom was right there. 

“Jared,” she said, like she was surprised. She looked surprised. 

Jared’s dad was blond, and just under six foot. Jared didn’t look anything like his dad, he looked like his mom. The same dark hair, the same hazel eyes, the same nose. Even his height came from her side of the family. The similarity had never really meant anything to Jared, before. But it was the first time in over year he’d seen his mom, and everything in Jared’s life had changed. The familiarity, the undeniable tie yanked him through the door and when his mom pulled him into a hug, Jared returned it. 

“Mom,” he mumbled again her shoulder, hunched to fit her shorter frame. They stood in the open door for along moment, and Jared felt his mom’s finger stroking through his hair. It was like being a kid again. Almost made Jared wish he could just _be_ a kid again, where ignorance was a kind of safety.

“So,” his mom said, pulling back. Her hands moved down his arms, hovered over the curve of his stomach. “I can’t . . .” She looked up at Jared, and her expression was the most painful mix of confusion and sadness and wonder, it made Jared want to hide his face. A lump formed in his throat and he looked away. 

“It’s fine, mom.” _It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t ask me._

She didn’t let go of Jared’s arms. “Can’t you tell me about it?” 

Jared looked just to the left, not really meeting her eyes. “Is that why you wanted to see me?”

“Jared.” 

All the heavy, aching memories were fading in the cold, dim hotel room. “I know you’re going to try and argue about it. I’m not going to argue.” Jared looked his mom in eyes. She looked back, and every line of her face was worry. 

“Mom.” Jared pulled back, away from her touch. “I’m sorry about the police and stuff, but I’m not going to leave or whatever you . . . ” 

Jared ran out of words and just stood there feeling like a stupid kid trying to explain his stupid plan. 

His mom tried to smile, but it was just an expression of pain. “Lets go get something to eat.”

In the elevator, his mom looked over at him, her gaze lingering. But instead of asking about the baby she said, “Is there someplace particular you want to go?”

“Uh, no. Anywhere,” Jared stumbled over the words, braced for something that didn’t come. Then, in the interest of being preemptive, he said, “I’m just over twenty weeks now. Everything’s normal. I’m keeping it.”

There was a long silence, and then his mom laughed, a choked off chuckle. “You used to do that when you got in trouble at school. You’d come home and tell me all about it before your teachers could call.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Jared said, because he felt very much like a kid. 

They made it down to the lobby and into a cab with neither of them upsetting the tenuous balance. Standing under the hotel awning, trying to hail a cab, Jared was ready for the Bugatti to show up any second, and then he would have to do a lot of explaining. 

They caught a cab, and Jared let the conversation drift through small talk, half for the driver’s benefit. His sister’s and their new school; Ray, his mom’s step brother, and his job as an RN. It wasn’t till they were seated across from each other in a warm, half-lit bistro that Jared’s mom asked the question that had been hovering the whole time. She didn’t really ask, though. She waited till they had both given their orders and the waiter had left before she pulled out her phone, moving her thumb over the screen. Jared watched, waiting, willing to delay the inevitable conversation. He wasn’t prepared for it when she set her phone down on the table, turning it towards him.

It was a picture of him and Jensen. For a second Jared didn’t know where it was from, even though he recognized the suit he was wearing, the cufflinks showing just under Jensen’s coat sleeve. Jared was looking straight into the shot, Jensen was standing at his shoulder, closes enough to obscure Jared’s left arm. The stone steps and dark figures behind them were out of focus, but it gave context and immediately Jared remembered the photographers camped across the street at James McNulty’s funeral. 

There were more pictures below that one, a progression showing Jensen leaning in, saying something to Jared and then Jared himself turning away from the camera. The sparse text accompanying was pointless gossip blog stuff, and Jared couldn’t focus enough to read it. He could feel his mom’s gaze on him, waiting for some reaction. Jared’s shame was crawling up.

“There are better pictures, if you want on,” Jared said, trying for unconcerned, but sounding choked. He wanted to ask how she’d found the article, how she’d even known to look. 

“Jensen Ackles,” his mom said, her tone giving nothing away. 

Jared looked out the tall, rain-streaked windows, watched a few umbrella bobbing past. “Yes.”

“Jared,” his mom said, and then stopped as their waiter approached with their food. The noise of the restaurant wrapped their bubble of painful silence as the plates were set down, polite inquiries answered. Jared almost resented his mom for bringing him here, into a public place where civilized conversation had to be maintained. Probably _why_ she had done it. 

“Is this because of your dad?”

Jared looked up from his sandwich and soup, straight at his mom, his stomach jumping. For a long moment he thought she must know, and then realized she was asking in a typical, "are you acting out because your parents are fuck-ups" way. 

“This has nothing to do with dad.” _Has nothing to do with you. Let me be fucked up one my own._

She dumped cream into her coffee, lifted the cup, then set it back down. The shoulders of her tan trench coat were still damp with rainwater, her hair a little messed up. She looked sad, unwell. Maybe it was disgust. It had to be for Jared. If she was digging up photos of him and Jensen, she had to know who Jensen was, all the talk of criminal associations. “I don't know why this is happening.” 

Jared waited for her to go one, say something to give it context. 

“About your dad.” Jared’s mom licked her lips and sighed out a breath. “It wasn't just the money he stole . . . your junior year of highschool, I found out your dad was part of a gambling ring.” She moved her hands on the table, and Jared saw she was spinning her wedding band on her finger. 

“I didn’t even find out, actually. He came right out an told me. He was so far in by then, he was afraid they’d . . . anyway. He needed my help. He had a good scare, he came clean, and I thought that was it. We mortgaged the house, but it was handled.”

Jared stared trying to decide if this was something he was supposed to be taking seriously. The arguments, the tension that had started breaking through his teenage self-involvement - it was a pattern he thought he already knew, but these were new pieces. 

“He wasn’t. He wasn’t done with it. He just moved to a different group. I don’t know what he did, I think someone introduced him to a new game, and this time it was a lot worse. When he couldn’t pat off his loses, he started stealing from his company.”

“Dad’s a gambler?” Jared tried to past that onto what he knew of his dad. Serious and patient, a little melancholy, maybe even morose. “Why didn’t you tell me about all this? I thought he was just . . . wanted the money.” Jared had thought a lot of things, from hookers to blackmail. Or blackmail from hookers. He’d never asked, and now he thought maybe it was because he didn’t want to know.

His mom laughed, sharp and brittle. “He is kind of an asshole.” She sighed. “You were at college, I didn’t want to drop this all on you. I wasn’t dealing with it very well myself. I should have told you, but I didn’t think . . . I didn’t want to keep doing damage to you and your sisters.”

Her mouth pulled down at the edges. “I knew this about him. I knew he had friends in college who did sports gambling. He laughed it off when he told me. It was stupid, I thought it was just a college thing.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Jared wasn’t sure what it all meant, for him, for his parents, for any of them. He felt detached, like this was someone else’s dad they were talking about. 

“They were threatening to hurt you and your sisters if he didn’t pay them. These people were part of organized crime, and your dad got pulled into that. This is what happens when you get involved with these kinds of people. They are _ruthless._ ”

“You think I’m getting involved with criminals?” Jared felt his skin heat with that half-lie. But that was in the past. He was going to make it the past.

“Jared, you’re smarter than that. What’s going on between you and this man Ackles? Do you owe him money?”

“No.”

“I will do _anything_ for you, you have to know that. You don’t have to do this by yourself. Just talk to me.” Her hand reached for Jared’s across the table, and he pulled away, sitting back in his chair. He tilted his head back staring up at the globe lamps hanging from the tall ceiling of the bistro.

“No, you . . .” Jared floundered, unable to work around the edges of what he wanted to say, but not actually admit. He tipped his head down. “We’re engaged, okay? We’re going to get married, we have a kid on the way. This isn’t . . . whatever you think it is.”

His mom’s eyes widened, a look Jared didn’t understand coming over her face. “Did he . . . Jared, did he rape you?” She was almost whispering now. “Is this why –?”

“What?” Jared choked, voice too loud for their surroundings. “No, god, why would . . .”

“You want to keep the baby, okay, but you don’t have to stay with this man.” His mom’s voice shook, a tremble that was moving to her chin. She wasn’t a crier. When Jared’s mom was upset, she yelled, she gestured, she turned sharp and ice cold. When she broke down and cried Jared knew things were really, really bad.

He didn’t want to see her cry; he didn’t want to be here. “Whatever you think he’s doing to me, he’s not.” 

“This is my fault. I never talked to you about these things and I should have known with your father’s past . . . I wish I had.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she turned away, wiping fingers under one eye, then the other. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jared said, words that didn’t mean anything. _It’s way too late for that. I’m not the person you think I am anymore._

“How did this all happen?” There was a plea, a demand for Jared to account for it all. To justify every turn like this was all his doing.

“I don’t know mom, you had three kids you should – ” Jared stopped halfway to smartass, and his mom was watching him confused, teary. Jared felt like shit, now. Angry, and angry for being angry. He couldn’t help her, but he wanted to, or wished he wanted to. But he also wanted to hurt, to twist that knife of guilt a little. 

“We met in a club. We hung out for a while. I . . .” 

Jared’s wandering gaze caught the curious look of a girl in a group a few tables over. She gave a little smile when their eyes met and Jared, looked away, back down at his untouched food. “I like him.” It felt weird being the one defending Jensen, after how the past few days had gone. But Jared had his own reason for being pissed at Jensen, and no else had a right to them. 

“Are you going to get involved in his criminal life, too? Am I going to have to visit my son in prison, too?”

Jared huffed, a weak scoff. “That’s a huge fucking exaggeration, okay.”

“Oh my god, Jared, why are you doing this?” His mom was moving into the a desperate, frantic tone.

Jared shoved back from the table, moving to stand. _This_ is what he wasn’t going to listen to. He’d only end up pissed and yelling, and then his mom would just yell back. There was nothing to be gained wallowing in the shit hole of family guilt and blame. If there was one thing that Jensen had given Jared, it was the right to shed all guilt. He wanted that now. 

Jared was turning to leave the table even as he became aware of someone approaching from behind. The sense of touch and smell came together. Jensen’s cool, clean scent under the smell of leather; Jensen's hand settling low on Jared’s back as his body invaded Jared’s space, warm and solid. 

Jared made an abortive flinch, his rounded belly bumping the table, and Jensen’s hand moved around to Jared's hip, gripping lightly. “Hey, I missed you back at the apartment.” Jensen’s voice was low, just for Jared, and Jared grabbed the edge of the table, trying to turn to Jensen and keep his mom in sight at the same time. If he’d planned it in the middle of an anxiety attack he couldn’t have come up with a more stressful combination than his mom and Jensen meeting face-to-face. 

Hand still on Jared’s back, Jensen leaned over the table, offering a hand to Jared’s mom. “Jensen Ackles. I didn’t think I’d get the change to meet any of Jared’s family so soon.”

Jared’s mom looked at Jared, confused, shocked, like Jared had _planned_ this to spring on her. Her eyes flicked back to Jensen, and abruptly she stood, five-ten plus heels putting her almost at level with Jensen.

“Hillary,” she said, not giving a last name, but she accepting Jensen’s hand in a short handshake. “I’d say our meeting is long overdue.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jared saw Jensen’s slow grin. Jared was wrong. Meeting McNulty’s hadn’t been awkward at all. In fact, he’d love to do it all over again, if it meant he could rewind time to just that moment. 

 

Jensen pulled out a chair, making to take a seat at the table, have a chat with Jared’s mom, and Jared had a moment to envision himself walking out the door and catching a cab, anywhere that was away from this train wreck. But that would mean another layer of unknown to Jared’s life, and he didn’t need that. Ignorance was only bliss if you didn’t know the ignorance was there to begin with. 

And then Jared was sitting back down, Jensen’s hand moving up his arm, and Jared wanted to shake it off, but equally didn’t want to let his mom see that. Under the table he twisted his hand and dug his fingers into the tendons of Jensen’s wrist. Jensen’s smile widened, but he let go. 

“Hillary,” Jensen said, and Jared got a weird twitch hearing his mom’s name coming out of Jensen’s mouth. “At least now I know Jared comes by his looks honestly.”

It was embarrassingly stupid, but of course Jensen made it sound easy and charming.

Jared mom didn't even give a seconds attention. “I wasn’t aware Jared was in a relationship. How long have you been . . . dating? - my son. I assume it’s dating.” Jared’s mom said. She was doing that sharp, icy thing she did when she was scared or angry. Jared couldn’t look directly at her, or at Jensen, so he kept his gaze moving in the middle distance. Why the fuck did these kinds of things keep happening. 

“What’s it been?” Jensen looked over at Jared. “Four months?” He grinned at Jared’s mom. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure I thought I was dating Jared long before he even noticed me. My timeline is more based on infatuation than fact.”

Jared was going to puke or something. No way his mom was going to fall for this shit. But Jared couldn’t contradict it, and Jensen - the fucker - knew it.

“I noticed you, I was just kind of embarrassed for you, you were making such an idiot of yourself.”

Jensen laughed, and even though Jared was pretty sure it was mostly fake, it sounded perfectly genuine, and he wanted to stop and listen to it. The tilt of Jensen’s head, the creases at the edge his eyes, the heavy stubble over his jaw, the spread of strong thighs . . . 

Jared realized he was just sitting there watching Jensen, and jerked his gaze back across the table to his mom. She returned his look with one of incredulity, like she wasn’t believing a second of it.

 

Jared’s stomach squirmed and the burn in his bladder suddenly spiked. He pushed away from the table, his chair scraping loudly on the bare floor. Jensen and Jared mom both turned to look at him. 

“Sorry, bathroom.” Jared said, standing. 

The table was silent as Jared walked away, but he could feel the looks that followed him. He wasn’t ditching, he really did have to piss like crazy, but the break in the tension let him breathe.

As Jared pushed open the bathroom door, he felt the baby move, rolling over inside of him. _God,_ that would never stop being weird. 

Jared took a long time peeing, and then an extra long time washing his hands. Jensen and his mom were sitting out there, talking. Right now. Face-to-face. 

Jared closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the mirror above the sink. The edge of the counter pushed into his stomach, uncomfortable. Jared groaned and the noise was too loud bouncing off the glass. 

When Jared got back to the table, Jensen was drinking coffee, looking relaxed. Jared’s mom looked icy calm, a cover for whatever she was really feeling. 

Jensen looked over as Jared hesitated, standing beside his chair. 

“Our kid giving you a hard time?”

Ten different responses piled up immediately, and Jared had to stop himself from saying anything at all, because his mom was sitting right there, and she had some idea that getting Jared away from Jensen was necessary. Possible. 

Jensen grinned, and he was looking at Jared’s mom, but the laughing at Jared. 

Jared glanced at his mom, and said to Jensen, to anyone, “You know what? I’m not feeling too well. We should probably go.”

Jensen was on his feet immediately. “We don’t want you tired out while you’re incubating. Let’s get you home.”

“Jared.”

Her voice was sharp, urgent, and Jared turned immediately. “Mom . . .”

Jensen was between them, and for a second Jared thought he would block Jared from going to her. _Fuck off,_ Jared thought, putting more force than necessary into the shoulder as he pushed past Jensen, and Jensen stepped back. Jared moved into a hug, pulling his mom close. The smell of damp cloth and perfume as she hugged him back. 

She took a deep breath. “You –”

“I’ll call you. Please don’t worry,” Jared said. 

When Jared stepped back, Jensen was watching them, face completely expressionless. 

There was no sign of Jensen’s car. Jared waited till they were in a cad before he said, “What the fuck was that.” 

Jensen was busy looking pissed, staring into thin air. 

“Hey, asshole. You got a problem with leaving me alone to talk to my mom?” 

Jensen turned his gaze to Jared, dead flat. It was humid inside the cab, damp and sticky, the light grey and wet. For a long moment Jared looked back at Jensen, neither of them saying anything. 

Jensen broke the gaze. He ran his tongue over his lower teeth, and there was a long pause before he said, “She’s here to try and make you break it off with me?”

There was something in the mild tone, that made Jared’s stomach clench, a stab of alarm. “No,” he said sharply. “She not here to make me do anything. You and me . . . that’s between you and me.”

“You sure about that?” Jensen still wasn’t looking at Jared. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.” Then, “Nice subject change, there. I had family stuff to talk about, and you showing up like some jealous girlfriend fucked it up for me.”

Jensen make a scoffing noise. “You seemed happy to leave.” 

“You were being a huge dick.” 

In the silence immediate that followed Jared realized the whole conversation was stupid. He caught movement from Jensen’s side of the seat and turned just in time of catch a kiss, Jensen’s hand on the back of his neck yanking him forward. Jared half fell into Jensen’s lap before bringing his arms up to brace against the seat and window. 

There was nothing hot about making out in the gross, sticky interior of a New York cab, and the baby was still moving, an uncomfortable squiring, but the feel of Jensen’s gripping fingers, the scrape of beard, the desperate press of his mouth against Jared’s. Yeah, that was hot. 

Seeing Jensen off balance, upset about the possibility of Jared leaving him . . . that was kind of hot too, in a weird, power-trip way. 

Jared slid closer, pushed a leg in-between Jensen’s spread thighs. There wasn’t enough room and Jared’s stomach was getting in the way. Jensen grabbed Jared’s ass, stroking his palms down, gripping Jared’s thighs, then back up again, working under Jared shirt to bare skin.

“I’m not fucking you in this shitty cab,” Jared mumbled against Jensen’s lips between kisses. 

Jensen gave grumpy groaning sound, vibrating through his chest and throat, where Jared had his fingers pressed under Jensen’s jaw. The car made an sharp turn, throwing them both into the door, and Jensen laughed into Jared’s mouth. 

It was head somewhere really fucking good, and even if Jared’s brain wasn’t onboard, his dick was. But when Jensen crowed him into the elevator, the first thing that came out of Jared’s mouth was, “You lied to me.”

“Wha’?” Jensen was trying to bite Jared’s neck.

“You said my dad’s company was owned by the mob. When we first met. That’s why he was in danger.”

Jensen pulled back. “Why are you bringing this up now?” His hair was messed up, and his lips were wet, he was breathing a little fast, and he looked distracted and annoyed. Jared kind of liked it. 

“I can’t trust someone who doesn’t tell me the truth.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I let you make up your own fucking story.” White teeth, red tongue. Jesnen’s voice was harsh, too loud for how close they were. Jared’s hand was on Jensen’s shoulder, thumb on his neck, and the pulse there stayed steady, beating hard.

It was pretty much what Jared expected, but it annoyed him anyway. “You could have told me the truth.” Jared’s insides were a weird mix of angry and turned on, signals getting crossed, and he pushed Jensen away. 

Jensen took two short, stumbling steps back as the elevator doors glided open. 

“What do you want, Jared.”

 _Everything._ “How about some honesty.”

When the apartment door swung closed behind them and the foyer lights clicked on, Jensen was looking at Jared, a long, studying gaze. 

“You’re dad was already serving time when I first heard about him, so whatever shit he was into has nothing to do with me.” 

Jensen headed for the kitchen and Jared followed. “Was he really in danger or did you make all that up so you could fuck me?”

Jensen had the refrigerator open, looking for something. He glanced over at Jared, his gaze focused somewhere at Jared’s pregnant belly. He was doing that a lot, and it was kind of weirding Jared out. 

“He was.” Jensen swung the door closed, beer in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. He handed the water to Jared. 

“Doesn’t matter. I was still doing it to fuck you.” 

“You have a serious problem, you know that?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Honestly.” He tipped hid head, took a swallow of beer.

Jared rolled the cold plastic bottle across the palm of his hand. “Who exactly is it that wants my dad dead.”

“King’s gang. They’re a west Boston family and for the feds to care I’m guessing your dad was doing more than dodging his gambling debts.”

“He’s in WITSEC. That’ll keep him safe, right?”

“Till it doesn’t.”

Jared had a sense of floating loose from everything solid, a slow, painless loss of control. A realization he never had control. The right wording to a question was tumbling into place when Jensen spoke.

“Someday you’re gonna ask me for something I can’t give you. I don’t want it to be today.”

Jared couldn’t read any deeper into that, but there was obviously something - a fuck ton of somethings - Jensen had in mind. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I means I’m not gonna get involved. Can’t get involved. You’re my responsibility, but that’s where it ends.”

Jared’s thoughts immediately switched directions. “What, you think . . . am I in danger because of my dad?” 

“You’re not in any danger.” 

“Because you’re keeping me safe.”

Jensen took a drink of beer, holding it in his mouth a moment before swallowing. His eyes never left Jared’s as muscles of his throat rolled, the collar of his shirt light against the gold his skin. 

“You’re always safe with me.”

Jared’s skin prickled, his stomach ached with a fearful longing. Jensen slipped so easily into his half-truths and non-answers, even when he promised honesty. Habit or intention, Jared hate both equally.

A hard kick shocked Jared into a flinch. Apparently some pregnant people had a connection with their unborn child. Jared felt like he was an underappreciated host who was constantly upsetting his guest. 

“Hey.” Jensen set his bottle in the sink and moved across the aisle to Jared. The tips of his finger brushed over Jared’s jaw, his thumb stroking Jared’s lower lip. They were close enough to share breath and Jensen’s words were warm exhales against Jared’s mouth. “Doesn’t matter what’s going on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Jared stared back, watching Jensen’s eye’s flicker down, back up, dark lashes shadowing. It was just words, and coming from Jensen that didn’t mean much, but Jared held the promise for a moment of silence. 

“So what you’re saying is,” Jared said, feeling the drag of Jensen’s fingers against his lips, “you’ll keep the bad guys from killing me, but my family isn’t your responsibility?”

Jensen’s mouth opened, a pause on an inhale. Then, “Yeah, that’s about it.”

Said like that, it was callous. Fucked up. And it irritated Jared. They were his _family._  
No, he pissed because a criminal wasn’t going to protect his family from other criminals. _That_ was fucked up. 

“This is fucked up.”

He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Jensen made a questioning face, and suddenly they were too close, Jensen’s body doing things his words couldn’t. Jared reached up, pushing Jensen’s arms away from where they were settled on his shoulders, Jensen’s fingers in Jared’s hair. 

Jensen dropped his hands, but moved them immediately to Jared’ s waist, against the sides of his stomach, and under the weight of Jensen’s hands Jared realized the movement he’d been feeling pretty consistently throughout the day had stopped. 

Jared looked down at his stomach, wondering if that was a fluke, and a hard kick hit him just where Jensen’s left hand was. 

“Shit,” Jared hissed.

“Jesus,” Jensen said, at the same time. 

“You felt that?”

The kick came again, right against the center of Jensen’s palm. Jared didn’t know how hard it felt from the outside, but inside it was a pretty solid blow. 

“He’s really going at it.” Jensen sounded amused. “This how it always is?”

“No.” the kick came again and it wasn’t cute anymore. Jared grabbed Jensen’s wrist to pull his hand away. “I think he’s doing it because of you.”

Jensen let Jared remove his hands. “Just from that?” It was the first time Jared could remember Jensen taking any real interest in the baby. He would have liked to enjoy it, but the whole day was hanging close, clouding his mind. Somehow good things made it worse.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Jared said abruptly. 

Jared took the bottle of water with him and left the kitchen. Halfway up the stairs he stopped and went back for a bag of Doritos, because even if he felt like shit, he was still hungry. 

Sometimes during the night, dreams drug him to surface of consciousness. The room was dark and cool, but the sheet wrapped around Jared’s body were clammy, damp with sweat. He lay still, some unremembered need for, some forgotten purpose slipping away with memory of his dream. It was all gone in seconds. Jared tugged the sheets away from his body, feeling heavy and groggy. 

It was too dark in the bedroom to see, the windows blacked out, but Jensen’s presence was a rhythmic breathing, a weight sensed close by. Jared moved his hand across the sheets till it was close enough to feel Jensen’s body heat, just short of touching. After an undetermined time, his heart slowed, his eyes closed, and sleep drifted back in.


	18. Throwaway

Someone was talking, and after a while, Jared realized it wasn’t a dream. His eyelids felt heavy and swollen and it took a while to focus on the human shape standing beside the bed. 

Mark frowned down at Jared. “Or not.”

“Wha’?” Jared mumbled. 

“Checking to make sure you’re still alive.”

Jared groped around in the bed sheets for a phone that wasn’t there, habit from living alone, working a job. “Times it?”

Mark turned his wrist to look at his watch. “One thirty-four.”

Jared rolled over - tried to roll over - and bury his aching head back into the pillows. “Fuuuuck.” He almost felt hung-over. Bloated, swollen and heavy. God, he felt pregnant. And of course he really had to pee.

The bedroom door clicked shut and when Jared lifted his head, Mark was gone. 

Jared rolled himself out of bed and stumbled his way to the bathroom. As soon as he’d gotten used to using his left hand when pissing, his stomach had gotten too large for Jared to even see his own dick, and he realized he’d be sitting down to pee till the baby was out of him. Just another weird change he’d never have thought to anticipate. 

When he got downstairs, Mark was in the kitchen, looking through the cupboards.

“Are you making me lunch?” 

Mark shut the cupboard, muscles in his arms flexing, the tattoo around his biceps distorting, pointedly ignoring Jared.

Jared pulled the refrigerator open, stood for a long moment just letting the cold air wash over him, not sure what he wanted or why. 

He should call his mom. It was late, she’d probably been expecting something last night, early morning at the latest. Hopefully she wouldn’t be able to stay in the city much longer. She didn’t like Jensen, and Jared wasn’t going to change her mind. 

Jared pulled out a carton of organic orange juice, poured a glass, took one swallow and gagged. Apparently organic tasted like rotting garbage. He dumped the rest in the sink. Went back to frig for cottage cheese. 

Mark had a bag of Sun Chips now, and he turned on the TV in the kitchen, leaned against the island to watch while he stuffed his face. Jared pulled out a chair and sat, eating cottage cheese straight from the container, watching the TV without really seeing. 

When he’d finished half a quart of cottage cheese, Jared returned the container the refrigerator and went upstairs to take a shower, maybe put on something other than sweat pants. On his way to closet, Jared kicked last night’s clothes across the bedroom floor, and that reminded him needed to call his mom. He shook out his pants without finding it, and tossed them in the general direction of the closet and clothes hamper. 

“Hey, have you seen my phone?” Jared asked as he re-entered the kitchen. 

Rick was there, standing on the other side of the kitchen, his conversation with Mark, which seemed to be mostly facial expressions, interrupted by Jared’s arrival. The TV was still playing with the volume down and Mark had a beer in hand.

“Someone plan a party?” Jared looked at Mark, then Rick. 

“You want one?” Rick said, around a mouthful of something, his tongue candy-blue.

“I want my phone. Can’t remember where I left it.”

“Haven’t seen it,” Mark said.

“God,” Jared groaned. He didn’t bother to ask why Rick was there. Who knew what Jensen’s guys did what they did. He left the kitchen, checked the living room on his way back upstairs. No phone. 

He gave up and went to the bathroom for a shower. Under the warm water Jared tried to rehearse what he’d tell his mom, this time without Jensen hanging around, distracting him. She wasn’t going to like anything Jared said that wasn’t about leaving Jensen, leaving New York. Did she expected him to give up the baby? Fuck that. Jared could take care of a baby as well as some stranger. He wasn’t a teenager. Lots of people have kids at his age and were great parents. 

With washed hair and clean clothes Jared felt more human, less like a lifeless loser. He’d find his phone, get something to eat, go visit his mom, get all the stuff that needed setting straight set straight. Yeah, that was a plan. Vaguely. 

“I need your phone,” Jared said as he pulled sandwich makings out. He addressed Rick, because Rick was infinitely more likely to comply, but Rick just pulled the toothpick he was toying with from between his lips, glanced at Jared. 

“What for?”

“To call my phone.”

Rick shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t do much good.”

Mark was still leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the TV. 

“It’s not on silent, I’ll be able to . . .” Jared trailed off, something about Rick’s tone, Mark’s silence resonating oddly. 

Rick leaned over to haul his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. Jared watched as he pulled Jared’s phone from the pocket and handed it over.

“What are you doing with my phone?” Jared said, not sure whether to thank Rick or be pissed. The second time his password came up incorrect, Jared decided on pissed. 

“Did you fuck with my phone?”

Rick looked mildly sympathetic, and completely unconcerned. “Sometimes it’s good to take a break from technology.”

“Jensen told you to hack my phone?” Jared looked at Mark and got a dead stare back. Rick’s bag to Swedish Fish crinkled loud to the background of the TV. 

“What’s going on.” Jared said quietly. A weird tension was starting in his spine, making him hyper aware of Rick’s jacket within reach, the direction Mark’s feet were pointed. Exactly how slow and clumsy Jared really was.

“Everything is fine. Just a little break from phone and internet.”

So no email, no calling from Skype. Jared hadn’t seen a landline phone anywhere in the house. If there was one Jensen’s office, he’d never had the chance to see it.

“Great. Then one of you call me a taxi, since you’re the ones with the modern communication.”

Rick frowned at his candy, chewing away on a mouthful. Mark hadn’t moved an inched, arms still folded, but he was watching Jared. 

“Fucking . . . Jensen . . . fuck!” Jared whispered, hissed. He took a deep breath, said, “Let me call him.”

“Sorry, Jared,” Rick said, looking genuinely apologetic. “No calls.”

“No calls? What, I’m a prisoner now? What are you going to do if I walk out that door? Tied to the fucking bed?”

Rick got up from his chair, slow and without intention but Jared inched back anyway. Rick stretched his arm, ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. He squinted at the stove clock. 

Jared darted a look at Mark. Mark was watching him with the same empty calm. 

“Rick, man,” Jared tried. “I don’t know what crawled up Jensen’s ass, but you can’t keep me here. It’s . . . “ _Illegal. Ha fucking ha._ “It’s unreasonable.” That was so much better, sure.

“Yeah, I know,” Rick said calmly. 

“Is this because of last night? Is he freaking out _because my mom’s here_? That’s so fucked up, why – ”

“Jensen’s gotta do what he’s gotta do,” Rick said completely unhelpfully, but Jared wasn’t listening. 

Jared’s mom. 

Jared’s dad. WITSEC. Federal witness. Mobsters trying to stop Jared’s dad from testifying. And Jensen had said he could protect Jared, but not Jared’s family. Couldn’t protected Jared’s _family._

An electric jolt of alarm kicked Jared’ heart into highspeed and his head felt cold and light. Jensen was keeping Jared locked up here, keeping him away from his mom. His mom was in danger. Someone was coming for his mom. 

It was a jumble, Jared couldn’t even articulate who was a danger to his mom - Jensen, the Kings gang-whoever Jensen had mentioned. People who testified against the mob got relocated, their whole family sometimes, right? Why wasn’t someone protecting his mom? Why wasn’t . . .?

“That’s great, Rick,” Jared said. He felt weirdly calm, even as adrenaline rushed through his system. The baby was protesting, a hard kick catching Jared low on his stomach. “I’ll get my own cab.” 

He turned and left the kitchen, heading for the front door, heard Rick move. Mark was probably moving too, but there’s was no sound. Jared was braced for a hand, but not prepared for both his left arm to be yanked behind his back, Mark putting on enough pressure to show Jared he could dislocated it without trying. 

It was pretty persuasive, and Jared stumbled back, trying to keep his arm intact. But it wasn’t going to get him out of the apartment, he needed a real fight. A real fake fight. The same jumpy energy he got every time he stepped on a stage was rolling under a crystal-clear calm. 

“Fuck, fuck, okay, le’go,” Jared gasped, and after a moment Mark let up. 

Jared turned, cradling his aching shoulder. “Trying to pull my arm off?”

Rick had moved behind Jared, and Jared was pretty sure that when Rick had stood up in the kitchen, he had favored his right knee. Still holding his arm, Jared spun and kicked Rick’s leg, connecting just below the kneecap with the ball of his foot. 

It was a pretty good kick, better than Jared had expected, and Rick made a sharp grunting sound, lurching even he grabbed for Jared. Jared dodged Rick and made it two steps before Mark was there. 

Jared immediately realized his mistake. Mark wasn’t fucking around. Jared _was_ fucking around, and in this situation, that was really, really fucking dangerous. The smart thing would have been to stop fighting immediately, go limp. Jared had planned to put up a fake fight, but he didn’t have to fake it, and for second Jared was genuinely afraid, and in that moment of unexpected panic, it felt like if he stopped fighting, he’d be crushed. 

The side of his head connected with the wall, and through the ringing in his ears Jared heard Rick shouting, roaring, like Jared had never heard Rick sound.

“ . . . fucking hurt him,” Rick yelled, and Mark’s fingers eased up on Jared’s neck and arm. Blood rushed too affected areas, feeling too cold, and Jared forced himself to calm down, control his breathing, then remembered he was supposed to keep it fast. He was okay, he was fine.

_Get a grip, fucking get a grip._

“Jared? Kid, hey, you okay?” Rick was pulling him around, trying to get a look at his face, and Jared let his knees sag. 

“Jared?” 

Mark’s hands were still there, supporting now while still restraining. Jared gave a bit of a rasp to his breathing, ignoring both Mark and Rick as he stumbled a few steps. Something tickled his upper lip and before Jared recognized it as a nose bleed, Rick swore.

“Get his head,” Rick said, and then they were lifting Jared, carrying him towards the couch. 

Time for the lock in.

As soon as they started moving him, Jared jerked forward, curled around his stomach, making sharp noise of pained surprised. The cool leather of the couch was suddenly under him, Rick looming overhead. Jared felt blood running down the back of his throat, and the baby kicked again, hard. Didn’t really take that much acting to writhe in imagined pain. 

“G-God!” Jared sobbed, hands back on his stomach. His legs thrashed in pain, like he couldn’t decided which direction to twist. 

“What’s wrong,” Mark said, sharp.

“Jesus Christ,” Rick said. 

Panting and bleeding, hands shaking, Jared stared wide-eyed at Rick, projecting terror and pain. “Something’s wrong, s-something’s wro – ” 

Jared cut off the word with a guttural sound, half a sob. He was working up some tears, but like the shakes those almost felt real, the heavy wash of emotion pushing against his control and rational. 

But it was working. Rick was on his phone, talking to an emergency operator while Mark hovered at the foot of the couch, stonelike. Jared hoped he was feeling the fear of having fucked up Jensen’s fiancé. 

Jared had never had to keep up such an intense act for such a length of time and when the paramedic pushed Rick aside to kneel beside Jared, he wasn’t sure what was fake and what was real, fear that he’d done something stupid, taken this too far, clenching hard in his chest, shortening his breaths, even as he tried to calm down. 

Rick told them his name, and the guy, Drew, asked Jared how far along he was. Then the female paramedic - Lucy - put an oxygen mask over Jared’s face and there was no more talking for him.   
When they asked what had happened Mark helpfully said Jared had tripped on the stairs, had a bad fall.

As they wheeled Jared out he heard Lucy refuse Mark’s request to ride in the ambulance with them. 

_Fuck you, Mark,_ Jared thought as tears rolled down his temples, turning the elevator lights overhead blurry. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Drew said, a comforting hand on Jared’s leg. “Deep breaths.” 

Jared closed his eyes and focused on breathing, calming down. The baby was still kicking every now and then, angry at all the upset, and Jared silently apologized. 

He kept his eyes closed as they loaded him into the ambulance, feeling the sun on his face, the sticky heat of July after a storm. The doors slammed and Drew’s hand was back. 

“Jared? You still with me?”

Jared opened his eyes, nodded. The dried blood around his nose itched. He turned his head as much as he could, and Drew grinned at him. He had a nice smile.

“We’ll be there soon.”

Jared wished he could say not to bother, just pull over, let him out. When he reached up to pull the mask off his face Drew stopped him with a hand on Jared’s wrist. 

“Let’s leave that on for now, okay?”

Drew had called in to the hospital on the way over (“Twenty-two year old male, twenty-one weeks pregnant, experiencing nausea and severe abdominal pain . . .”) and as soon as they wheeled Jared into the emergency room there were people everywhere, it seemed - attaching a fetal monitor, checking his blood pressure cuff - and Jared figured it was time to give up the ruse. They could tell he wasn’t in labor, didn’t have a concussion, wasn’t even bruised when the nurse rolled his t-shirt up to apply ultrasound jel. As hard as it felt when Mark grabbed him, Jared was only a little sore in his shoulders.

But as a soon as he’d tried to explain he was fine, everyone seemed unwilling to believe him, even if they could see it for themselves. The baby’s heartbeat was normal, strong and steady, and Jared’s blood pressure was coming down. Jared hadn’t thought of an excuse for all the fuss, but lying was becoming a practiced skill now. Jared explained he’d needed a safe way to get out of the apartment when a date had gone bad and so had faked the fall and pains.

“You’re dating one of these guys?” The ER nurse was confused. Or amused.

“I’m not _dating_ him, I just met him today. We hooked up on OKCupid. Online dating? I didn’t know he’d have a friend there. Things were getting weird and when I tried to leave they weren’t letting me go so I just . . . pretended to fall and started screaming and crying and stuff.” 

The attending doctor, a tiny woman with a “do not fuck with me” face looked pointedly at Jared’s hand cast. 

“And how long ago did that happen?”

“Couple weeks ago. I punched a guy.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Pregnancy makes me pretty aggressive,” Jared tried. The ER nurse choked on a laugh.

Emergency rooms probably saw a lot of weird. Some pregnant guy using them to get out of a bad date didn't rate. When Dr. Karlton had confirmed both Jared the baby were doing fine, she left Jared to the nurse with a shake of her head and a longsuffering sigh that plainly said she thought Jared was an idiot. 

“Sorry,” Jared said as the nurse detached the BP cuff and handed Jared a wipe for the dried blood on his face. “I was just worried I couldn’t get away from them.”

“Hey,” the nurse said. “You gotta do what you gotta do.” 

When Dr. Karlton’s questions has turned to assault, ready to do a complete examination, Jared promised nothing had actually happened at the penthouse. When she told him should still talk to the police (“Holding you against your will is a criminal offense.”) Jared said he’d think about it, hoped she would just let it go. If either Mark or Rick showed up at the hospital looking for Jared, security would turn them away, or the hospital could call the police if they wanted, and that was all Jared needed for now. 

Jared swung his leg over the gurney to stand. “I think I’m going to lay off the online dating for a while.”

The nurse was trying to hide a smile. “That might be a good idea.”

“Hey, is there a phone I can use? I need to call my mom.” Jared didn’t need to fake the needy insecurity in his request. 

He ended up at the nurses station with a juice box because still looked pale, and one of the nurse’s cellphones. He was being treated like a kid, but everyone was being a lot nicer to him than Jared figured he deserved. He turned away in his chair as he waited for his mom to pick up. The noise of the hospital was normal, calming, but Jared expected any second for Mark and Rick to appear. For Jensen to show up. Oh, god, that would be it, that would ruin –

“Hillary speaking.”

She sounded breathless, rushed. 

“Mom,” Jared started.

“Jared!” She exhaled. “I’ve been calling you all day. Where are you?” She sounded pissed.

“I’m , uh, on my way . . .” Jared glanced over at the nurse whose phone he was using. She was busy talking to a guy in scrubs. No Rick or Mark in sight. 

“Where are you?”

“I’m at my hotel. Jared, we need to talk. Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, I know, but something’s happened . . .” And Jared realized his plan didn’t actually extend beyond confirming his mom was still okay, still safe. He could warn her, he could ask her to call the police, _go_ to the police. What were they going to do, anyway. 

Out of nowhere, the memory of Trevor’s face, dark hair black with rainwater, badge extended over the roof of his car, came to Jared. Agent Trevor. A flush of fear and oddly, shame, heated Jared’s skin. No, that wasn't even a viable option. Was it?

“What’s happened,” Jared’s mom asked sharply. “Jared. What do you mean –?”

“Can we meet somewhere, and talk?” Jensen knew where his mom was staying, it would be the first place he’d look for Jared. But the second he said it , some unease tightened in Jared’s gut, and he scanned what he could see of the hospital again. Nothing had changed. 

“I’ll come to you,” Jared’s mom said.

“No!” Fuck, fuck. Were Mark and Rick just waiting outside the hospital? He hadn’t thought of that.

“Wait, hang on a second.” Jared fumbled with the phone, his palms slick with sweat. The building was cool, but his t-shirt was damp. He stood and walked back to the desk. The nurse who had loaned the phone looked up expectantly.

“Sorry, I just need to know where the closest police station is.”

She wanted to ask, she was going to ask, but then she didn’t, just gave Jared the address to the nearest precinct station. 

“Thanks,” Jared grinned. “Almost done.” He retreated to his corner chair. If someone was after his mom today, right now, there wasn’t time. They’d make the police to listen. 

There was a long pause after Jared gave the address and he knew his mom was looking it up. 

“Jared, whose phone are you calling from?”

Hadn’t expected that. “I had to borrow it form someone, my battery died.”

A door slammed on the other end of the line. “I’m on my way.” 

Jared knew she wasn’t believing anything half of what he was saying, now. She probably thought he was being held at the police station. 

Whatever. If it got her there, fine. 

“Okay. I have to give the phone back now. I’ll see you – ”

“I’ll be there.”

Jared ended the call and returned the phone. “Thanks.”

“You done? Everything worked out?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem, hun.” 

Jared left the hospital with sheaf of stapled forms he didn’t bother to look at, bills Jensen could pay, medical records Jared’s doctor could frown at. He took a back exit to a side parking lot and ducked between cars, keeping any eye out for lurking figures or occupied vehicles. It was still hot, afternoon shadows long. His dark blue t-shirt wasn’t really showing the blood and no one was staring, or paying any attention, really, but Jared felt like he was noticed more than usual. 

It was eight blocks to the station, but Jared ended up walking a lot further, trying to see if he was being followed. Anyone could be following him, but cute little kids in florescent Disney backpacks were probably less likely. It was getting to the point Jared had no idea who he was watching for - Jensen’s guys, or the guys who were after Jared’s dad, maybe his mom – oh, god, what if they were going after his sisters, too? They were all the way up in Seattle, but would that be far enough? 

The sticky heat had Jared sweating like a pig - did pigs even sweat?- nerves making him jumpy and sick. He felt like shit, but he made it without a single Mark or Rick sighting, then nearly jumped out of his skin when someone called his name from across the street. 

His mom was standing by a cab parked at the curb, but even as Jared turned, it was pulling away.  
Jared just stood there, waiting as his mom crossed the street. She was wearing a gauzy, white sleeveless bouse and dark sunglasses, looking serious and composed. 

She took them off when she got close, looking Jared over, and then her face changed, something like alarm darkening her eyes. 

“Jared? Baby, you look awful. What happened? Did you walk here?” Her cool, dry palm cupped Jared’s jaw, her thumb stroking his cheek. She combed damp hair off Jared’s forehead. 

“You’re overheated.”

“It’s fucking hot, is why,” Jared said, and his mom smiled an odd smile. 

“Come on, we’ll get you some water.” She didn’t ask why they were going to a police station, or why Jared looked like shit, and something in Jared melted, a helpless relief, a hope. Things were going to be fine. His mom had been angry before, but maybe seeing Jensen had been good, she’d had time to put things in perspective, or whatever. At least she was listening now, not just going on about how bad Jensen was for Jared. Of course the fucking asshole had to go and prove her right every fucking . . . 

They were almost to the station, close enough to hear the guy in jeans and motorcycle boots who was coming down the front steps laugh loudly, phone held against his ear. A car passed, throwing reflected light, and the engine noise didn’t fade, another car approaching, distinguishing itself. It was coming up slow, almost idling, and Jared turned, clumsy, lethargic heat and off-centered weight. 

A white panel van with some kind of logo on the side pulled up past them, close to the curb. Jared followed it with his head, already going tense, and the second he saw the brake lights he _knew._ It was a flashback to the whole kidnaping shit Jensen pulled out in Idaho. His first thought was, it was Jensen, and that was what really fucked it for him. For his mom.

He froze, his natural instinct to react coming up against a kind of angry resignation. It all happened too fast, once Jared decided it might not be Jensen after all, by the time he remembered there was an original threat that wouldn’t take him back to a comfortable house and let him yell at his boyfriend about how much of asshole he was. His mom’s finger’s dug into his arm, strong and steady, the back doors of the van slammed open and two guys covered up head to toe - gloves, ski masks, goggles - launched themselves out of the back. Jared’s mom made a sound, an aborted yell, and there was the buzzing sound of a taser.

Jared unfroze all at once, an involuntary lurch of limbs, a flight response that punched through his exhaustion. He was taller than his attacker, and the guy wasn’t . . . 

Jared’s whole body lit up with white pain, pulsing through ever inch of his body, locking everything up. He yelled, thought he yelled. Couldn’t move, couldn’t stand, heard the van engine running but his voice wasn’t making a sound.

The van rocked on its tires, and something clattered across the pavement, up against Jared’s shoe - his mom’s sunglasses. The white blur of her blouse was in the corner of his vision. She was against the van floor, not moving, her hair covering her face as she was hauled up inside.

Jared was already going down when the pain stopped, and a third guy was yanking him into the van, Jared’s shins scraping against metal as he was shoved from behind. The back doors slammed and the van was moving. The smell of seat and hot plastic and metal. He could move, grasp out real words. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Got a real kick, don’t it,” said the guy who was crouched over Jared, practically on top of him.

“Jared,” his mom said, breathless. The sound of movement.

“Keep moving and he shoots the kid,” the mask crouched beside her said, voice muffled.

“And it wont be with a fucking taser,” the third guy said. Three in the back, at least on up front. 

“Put them out.”

“Now?”

Something was thrown, one of guy’s laughed, a muffled chuckle. 

“Yeah, keep it up.”

Jared moved his head enough to see his mom. It was dim in the interior of the van, her white blouse the brightest thing there. She was lying with her head turned towards him, breathing long, deep breaths Jared knew she was using to stay calm. The hair across her forehead fluttered with every breath. She caught Jared’s gaze and held it, her eyes sending some message. The slightest smile curved her lips, weak but trying for his sake, and Jared’s throat swelled with a horrible, sick despair. 

The guy kneeling over Jared grabbed his arm, pulling it out straight, hauling Jared upright to sitting. Jared registered the syringe, the needle already stuck into the tiny bottle of something, and his heart kicked up into high gear. 

“No,” his mom said, voice choked against the floor. “No, you can’t, he’s pregnant.” 

The guy’s goggles were gone, showing pale blue eyes that widened comically. “He _pregnant?_ ” He practically crushed Jared’s arm in his grip, using his gloved thumb to mark where the needle slid in. He depressed the plunger. “Oooh, too late.”

The needle came out and Jared focused on breathing deep through his nose. Oxygen, stay awake, stay alive. Tiny shivers were running over his damp skin, even though the inside of the van was muggy and warm.

“You’re turn now. Don’t fight it.”

“Jared,” his mom said, but it was sounding fuzzy. Things were looking fuzzy, or it was already dim in the van. Dark inside, bright outside. 

Time slipped. Maybe someone said, “Lay him down,” But Jared couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t be sure of anything.


	19. Hemorrhage

Jared woke up slowly, the bursts of clarity slipping, layering, with no sense of time between them. It was cool. There was the smell of dust and gasoline. Someone was talking. The floor Jared was lying on was hard and gritty, and there was a kink in his neck. 

“Jared.” 

It was dim, the gray of dusk. Jared’s left arm was asleep, awkwardly pulled above his head, and when he tried to move it nothing happened. 

Something scraped across the bare cement floor. Jared blinked, eyelids heavy. The blurry shape a few feet away sharpened into a hot water tank. It took Jared a long moment to realize his mom was on the other side. Jared tilted his head back, trying to a get a look at his dead arm. His wrist was zip tied to the exposed pipe. He dropped his head back down.

For a long moment Jared lay still, listening to his own heavy breathing, detached from it.

“Jared, open you eyes. Don’t go to sleep.”

Jared opened his eyes. His mouth was dry, nausea was heavy in his throat. 

“Deep breaths. Keep your eyes open.”

Zip ties. Why was he tied up with a zip tie. 

Van. Mask. Drugs. 

No. Nonono. The baby. 

Jared kicked a leg out, tried to struggle upright without the aid of both arms. His cast slipped on the cement floor and he went back down, blowing up a burst of dust.

“Wh . . .” Jared licked his lips, tongue clumsy. “Waz th’s.” Okay, not what he meant. 

“You’re doing great. Keep taking deep breathes.”

By the time Jared was coordinated and aware enough to sit up, letting the blood flood back into his arm, it was darker in the room, the light from grate behind the ceiling fan almost gone. Cold leaked from the cement wall at Jared’s back and his ass was fast going numb.

“. . . didn’t see, and I haven’t heard them upstairs.”

Jared rested his head against the wall, trying to get a look behind the water tank to see his mom. She was twisting her wrist, barely able to move it in the tight plastic cuff. She sighed out a shaky breath and sat back. “How are you feeling.”

“Kind of sick.” Jared swallowed. “What’d they give us?”

“I don’t know.” A pause. “I think it was more than one thing.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, slumped against the wall. A cold, clenching fear was in Jared’s gut, driving up his nausea, making him sick with dread. The twilight turned to darkness, the grate in the ceiling a grey square in the black. As it grew colder, Jared’s aching head and throat were outdistanced by the discomfort of a full bladder. 

“They don’t need us both. We can get them to let you go. . . Ackles, Jensen Ackles. His name must mean some–”

“You know who those guys are?” Jared stared against the dark, only the faint, quick sound of breathing to tell where his mom was. 

“This has to be something to do with your dad.” Jared’s mom sounded so tired, so close to breaking. 

Jared didn’t know what to say to that. If she knew, why hadn’t she done something, why hadn’t she . . . 

“Jensen knows I’m missing, he’ll be looking.” Jensen was probably so pissed right now. Mark and Rick were going to have to tell him Jared disappeared from a hospital. Jared almost wished he could be there to see that. He felt giddy, and still sick, a desperate hope swelling. His mom’s voice cut through the growing hysteria.

“Is the engagement real?”

Jared took a deep breath, tried to ignore the pain of his bladder, the burn of his wrist, the ache of . . . everything. “Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence. “Does he – ”

The loud rattle of a bay door rolling up stopped Jared’s mom mid-sentence. Somewhere above, lights came on with a buzz, brightening the square of grating. Jared blinked and squinted, shifting against the insistent burn of a full bladder. His ass was numb against he cold, hard floor.

A man’s voice came from above, too indistinct to make out words. A conversion. 

“Do what they say,” Jared’s mom said, rushed, breathless. “Just do what they say, I’ll try to – ”

“So call him again,” a male voice said, close. Right beside the ceiling grate. There was some response Jared couldn’t make out. 

“That’s six hours, seven. Leave ‘em?” 

Footsteps shuffled and scraped. A shadow blocked out the florescent lights. 

“Comfy down there?” the shadow said. 

Jared watched the shadowy outline, his breathing gone shallow. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like that guy’s face was bare, no mask, the edges of his hair backlit by white light.

The other voice was approaching, and Jared caught the end of the sentence. “ . . . happen again.”

“Think it’ll take . . .?”

“It’s fine.”

Both shadows hung, indistinct, thrown dark on the cement floor, around the shadow shape of fan blades. Jared couldn’t look away, like he’d show some weakness. 

“Could we have some water, please?” Jared’s mom raised her voice to be heard. Jared cringed at the mention of water, sure he was seconds away from pissing himself, the control unraveling through his body.

There was no answer from above, but one of the shadows swayed away. A moment later the other left as well. 

Footsteps clanged on metal, and the door at the far end of the room opened. The light came on, showing a bare basement room, a utility sink and refrigerator against the far wall, caught in the edge of Jared’s vision as he watched the man in the doorway. He wasn’t wearing a mask, short hair and beard the same redish color. The lack of a mask made Jared’s stomach clench, something about a kidnapper showing their face meaning they were planning to kill their victim. 

The guy stood in the doorway, hand still on the light switch, looking Jared and his mom over. There were two bottles of water between the fingers of his opposite hand, and after a long, moment of heavy silence, he stepped forward holding one of the bottles out to Jared. 

“Make it last,” he said. 

Jared accepted the bottle, on autopilot. Some sharp, chemical smell came off the guy. He stepped around the hot water tank to give the other bottle to Jared’s mom. 

Jared wasn’t going to ask, god dammit, but the ache in his bladder was so intense, it was overriding any semblance of rational thought.

“Hey.” His voice sounded odd, far away. “I need to use a bathroom.”

The guy paused, glanced Jared over. “Use the bottle,” he said, pointing to the bottle of water in Jared’s hand. 

Jared wasn’t sure whether it made it better or worse that the guy turned the light off when he left. Footsteps rang back up the stairs, then silence. The light above stayed on.

The plastic snap of a bottle opening was followed by faint swallowing sounds, then Jared’s mom was dumping the rest of her water on the floor.

“Here.” Jared felt wet plastic against the fingers of his bound hand. He had to twist awkwardly to reach behind the water tanks and grasp the bottle with his free hand, clumsy with in its cast. His rising embarrassment was broken into by his mom’s voice.

“When your dad went into WITSEC, I had a talk with the officer who . . . recruited him. I asked if this would mean me and you and the girls needed to be protected, too, but he didn’t seem to think that would be necessary.”

Jared realized his mom was talking to cover for him, not really expecting him to answer, just filling awkward silence as Jared fumbled with his jeans, glad there was a water tank between them, but _fuck_ his fucking hand was useless . . .

“He didn’t think your dad’s testimony would be a priority for the Kings, and I was already so far away, living with Ray. You were in New York. But I kind of got the sense they didn’t want to be bothered with it if they weren’t going to get . . .”

Jared nearly lost it in the dark, one-handed. Cold air on his dick, hard plastic. _God_ , Jared was never taking toilets for granted, never complaining about having to sit down again. He nearly cried in relief when he finally let go, closing his eyes, trying to pretend he was anywhere else. His wrist pressed against the heavy curve of his stomach was voice whispering in the background, a reminder Jared didn’t want to think about. 

“ . . . haven’t even talked to him in weeks, now. I’ll give them anything if they’ll let you go. If it means getting your father out of WITSEC, I’ll do it.”

Jared was fumbling to get everything back in place. It took a moment to tune back in to what his mom was saying, to pull his head away from the slow slide of worry, _the baby hasn’t moved, the baby isn’t moving, the baby, baby._ Now that his full bladder wasn’t the first thing on his mind, everything else was flooding in.

“I don’t know if giving them what they want will get us – ”

“Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Are you saying you’d . . . you know if this is about dad, they probably want him out of WITSEC so they can kill him, right?” 

“I know.”

They were both talking quietly, just loud enough to hear each other. Jared shivered, leaned his head against the wall, a wave of dizziness washing over him. 

“You wouldn’t actually . . .” Maybe she thought they were being listened to. Maybe they _were_ being listened to. 

“I’d do whatever I had to to keep you safe,” Jared’s mom said, softly. It was the same tone of voice she used when she wished him sweet dreams as a kid. Maybe it was all nonsense to comfort him, but Jared felt a odd twist of love and fear and sorrow. He couldn’t respond, and the conversation ended there. 

There was the sound of shoes scraping over cement, Jared’s mom shifting around. Her fingers brushed Jared’s, their bound hands just touching, resting together. 

Jared took a deep breath, then another. _Hurry the fuck up, Jensen._

Rock music was turned on upstairs, faint drums and riffs Jared didn’t recognize, echoing in a big space. The breaks between songs marked a passage of time, but Jared lost count after five. His back ached, his head was full to stupid heavy dread, and if he gave it a second of attention, most of it centered on the heavy stillness inside him, stillness where a baby moved every night, right when Jared was trying to go to sleep. 

Jared shifted, his shoes scraping over the grit on the floor. Something rattled as it rolled away and Jared followed the sound in the dark, turning his head. It sounded like a screw. 

Jared stretched, running his fingertips over the floor, feeling where the sound had stopped. 

“Jared?” 

“I’m fine,” Jared said, leaning his weight against his tied wrist. The sharp plastic edge of the zip tie cut into his skin and Jared leaned harder. His finger bumped the metal screw, and he fumbled after it. When he had it he sat back, scooting up against the wall, doubling back, getting as close to the water tank as his stomach allowed, working to get his hands together, find the tab inside the plastic tie. 

No one ever told you this kind of stuff should be practiced. Jared has seen a video on YouTube about escaping from duct tape and gags and zip ties, but all he remembered was there was a tab you had to release to escape. _Find the tab,_ became Jared’s feverish mantra, and some hysterical voice in his head told him there was a sex joke in there. After a few minutes a burning pain started in Jared’s shoulder, then his hip. His whole body felt like a kinked hose, no blood getting through. In the murky dark Jared could hear his mom breathing just as hard as he was, like she was feeling the same tension. 

A kick slammed Jared’s low ribs and he flinched, dropping the screw. “Fuck,” he gasped, unfolding. Another kick. _Thank God, thank everything._ The baby was okay. Okay-ish at least. Kicking. Probably didn’t like the weird position Jared was in. 

“Okay?” Jared mom asked softly.

“Yeah. Baby’s kicking.”

A long indrawn breath. “Good. That’s good.” Jared could hear the deep relief under the calm tone. 

After a moment, he moved back, reaching behind the water tank for the screw. 

The sound of abay door rolling up, and car engine. The engine grew louder, till it sounded like it was directly overhead, idling for a long time before it shut off, leaving just the sound of music. A car door slammed.

Jared froze, listening, fingers brushing over the screw. 

Voices. No words Jared could make out, but at least two men, maybe more.

Footsteps were descending the stairs behind the basement door, and Jared straightened out, pulled his hand back, leaving the screw on the floor. 

The door swung open, the light came on. It was a different guy than before. The conversation was still going on upstairs. So at least three in the building.

The guy wasn’t any older than Jared, tall and skinny with ears that stuck out. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie and carrying two paper plates with sandwiches on them. 

He swung the door shut, but didn’t latch it. “Hungry?” 

Jared didn’t say anything. Then his mom said, “Yes, thank you.” Jared figured that was her trying to be agreeable. Something told Jared that wasn’t going to help them any. 

“It’s roast beef. Made ‘em myself, nothing weird in them.” He handed out the plates, and then, instead of leaving, stepped back, sinking into a relaxed crouch, watching Jared and his mom like they were kids who might choke on their food. Or zoo animals at feeding time.

Jared checked the sandwich out. It looked normal, and despite the heavy knot of tension in his gut, his empty stomach was complaining. Food would be good, good for the baby. Jared lifted the sandwich and took a bite. 

“I don’t kill kids,” the guy said, unexpectedly. He was looking at Jared’s pregnant belly. 

“What’s your name?” Jared mom asked. 

“You can call me Joe,” the guy said, with a wry smile. 

“Okay. I’m Hillary, and that’s Jared.”

“I know your names.” 

Jared chewed and swallowed, the food going down like lead. “What did you give me? What kind of drugs?” 

Joe looked at Jared. “You’ll be okay.”

Jared didn’t say anything, all his responses angry and violent. He reminded himself, the baby was moving, it was okay. Shut down the voice that said, _You don’t know that._

“We’ll cooperate with whatever you want. You don’t have to hurt us. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Jared’s mom sounded completely calm, reasonable. 

“We don’t want anything from you,” Joe said. He looked a little less comfortable now.

“If you did, I’d do it. My husband is in WITSEC, but I could – ”

“Said we don’t want nothing, okay?” Joe wiped a hand over his mouth, sniffed. 

Jared wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he blurted out, “You know who Jensen Ackles is?”

Joe went still, his attention on Jared. “I know Ackles.”

“You know we’re engaged? You know I’m pregnant with his kid?”

Joe’s mouth opened, hesitation. “Look,” he started, then seemed to change his mind. “You gonna eat that?” He pointed to the sandwich. 

Jared lifted the sandwich, took another bite.

“Is Jensen Ackles working with you?”

Jared almost choked on his mouthful of masticated meat and bread when his mom spoke. 

Joe looked between Jared and his mom. “Nobody wants to hurt you,” Joe said, then “I’m sorry about that.” It didn’t make sense to Jared, but before he could say anything, Joe went on, “Sure no one wants to go up against the Doberman, but Mad Mike is still running the family, it ain’t really his call.”

“Mike?” Jared asked, not sure what he was hearing. Doberman? Meaning Jensen? Mike’s call on what? Oh, god, no. Jensen said he would protect Jared, but the rest of his family . . . Mike’s call. Mike’s call. 

“I can’t leave food down here with you, so finish it or you’re done.”

Jared felt like he might puke, now. He set the paper plate on the floor and pushed it away. Joe stood and retrieved it, then Jared’s mom’s plate. 

The light went off and the door slammed and locked. Joe’s footsteps rang on the stairs. 

The music upstairs was still playing, and after a moment Jared recognized Shinedown's _Sound of Madness._

“He’s not working with them,” Jared said. 

There was the sound of movement as his mom shifted, listening.

“You don’t like him, I get that, but he’s . . .” There was a tremble in Jared’s voice he couldn’t stop. “He’d kill for me.” 

After a moment, Jared’s mom said, “I don’t trust him.” Then, “When he was with you, I could see . . . he’s obsessed with you. That’s not a good thing, but I think you’re right. He wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you.”

Unspoken was, _but he’d hurt you himself._ Jared knew something about that, and it was relief that warmed his skin. For how blind sided she’d been my Jared’s dad, Jared had always thought his mom was an excellent judge of character. She saw through people’s bullshit and manipulation. If she could see that in Jensen and still hate him, Jared wasn’t being an idiot. 

They didn’t say anything else, and Jared was going back again for the screw when shouting broke out over the sound of music, tones violent and angry. 

Jared didn’t stop, listening closely, but still working. One of the voices got closer, words becoming discernable. 

“ . . . going to wait for him. Get this shit done _now_!”

Abruptly, the music shut off. Jared froze, practically holding his breath, pulse pounding. 

After a long moment of silence, Jared thought it was over, and let out a long breath, drawing in another. Then, there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and Jared barely had time to pull his hand from behind the water tank, screw hidden in his fist, before the door was flung open, slamming into the wall. The light glared bright. Jared squinted up at the man who strode in. It was the same one who had brought water, but now he looked furious. 

He didn’t look at Jared, headed straight for Jared’s mom, and Jared scrambled straight, trying to move to see what was happening. His heart jumped into his throat when he heard the _snick_ of a knife opening. The guy leaned in, over Jared's mom, and something snapped.

“Up,” the guy said, and Jared’s mom was standing, shaky after so long sitting. Before Jared could say or do anything, she was marched past him and out the door, the guy gripping her arm tight. The lights stayed on, and when the door slammed, Jared didn’t hear the lock. 

Tense, Jared watched the door, listening to the footsteps up the stairs. _nononono._

Jared twisted back around, back to the zip tie. Light helped, but it was still a tight, awkward fit. Jared strained his ears to hear something, anything, as he tried to moved his clumsy, casted hand.

Jared thought he heard his mom say something, but it might have been wishful thinking. But a man’s voice responded, so maybe not. There was silence after that, and it stretch long enough that Jared jumped when a shout broke it. 

The shout got louder at the end, and Jared made out, “ . . . motherfucking time!”

Jared had the screw jammed into the plastic tab, shoving it back, and he heard his mom scream. 

It was a sound he’d never heard her make before, raw and desperate. Adrenaline roared through him, his body was shaking with it, he didn’t think.

There was another scream, almost a wail, cutting off ragged. The music came back on, mid song.

A noise built in Jared’s head, locked up his throat. The zip tie scraped open, then yanked free all at once and Jared almost fell over, all his weight thrown against it. He was scrambling upright before he even thought it, running, stumbling for the basement door. Metal stairs led up and his footsteps seemed like the loudest thing in existence, but he still heard the music from above. 

Light, open space, like a warehouse. A black car parked . . .

Plastic sheeting set up like a photo shoot backdrop. Clear sheets, and red. 

Jared was running, screaming, feeling it in his throat. But the only sound he heard was a wet thud as the pipe wrench connected with his mom’s head. 

The guy swung it like a bat, again, and blood sprayed. The whole left side of his mom’s head was a red crater, hair matted black. She was on her knees, two men holding her arms, and Jared didn’t see the camera, didn’t see the masks, didn’t see anything but the blood pouring, heavy drops off her chin, over her white blouse. 

Jared slammed into the guy’s back, but he wasn’t attacking, didn’t even care. Just wanted his mom, wanted his mom. Shadows harsh in the lights high overhead. Jared was going down on his knees, reaching. 

Her eyes were open, staring. Blood ran from her mouth in long, thick strings. Jared had her in his arms, and she was limp, heavy, her arms free now. He rolled her over, cradling her, half on the ground, plastic sheeting slick and wet. 

Sound shut off. 

Jared wasn’t screaming, just the music playing, rock chorus echoing in the building. 

Blood in her mouth, down her chin. From her nose. Eyes open, lashes wet. 

Voices, movement. A shadow fell over Jared, over his mom’s face. A hand gripped his shoulder. 

Nothing worked. Jared wanted to move, to explode, to scream, roar out the flood inside his chest. His mom’s limp arm shook, loose fingers slipping over the red-smeared sheet, but the tremble came from Jared.

Hands were pulling him up, pulling him back, away. Jared twisted, grabbing tight to slick skin and soaked fabric. 

“ . . . him up.”

“You didn’t lock the fucking door?”

Jared’s voice came back, a throat-tearing scream he didn’t have the oxygen for. He couldn’t hold on to his mom and shake the hands off at the same time, and it turned into a grotesque wrestling match, sliding through oily red. 

There was a roar, a flare of light, and spray of wood and metal, rattling against cement in the dull, cottony echo of an explosion. Jared wasn’t noticing, only seeing in periphery the dark figures that came through the blasted door. 

The two guy’s who had been hauling Jared away let go, dropping him back to floor, collapsed in a sick, panting heap. 

“Try it, fucker,” someone yelled. Feet scrambled, a gunshot boomed. Someone screamed and fell.

Jared stared at the five people spread out, coming around the parked car, moving fast. Unfamiliar faces, assault rifles on slings. Jared’s glance skittered past them, caught on Mark, all in black . . . 

Jensen. Jensen in jeans and black boots, leather gloves, his gun still pointed at the writhing body in the edge of Jared’s vision. Jensen shot again, and the body jerked. 

Sharp, smoky air burning down his throat, (hands wet with blood, with blood, with her blood) Jared watched Jensen moving in. 

Jensen’s glance caught on Jared, sharp and clear as glass; just a second and it jumped up and behind. Jensen’s gun roared and Jared was showered in warm liquid. 

It wasn’t real, none of it felt real, and Jared couldn’t react like he should. Emotional capacity reached. Shutdown. 

“No, wait, you – ” 

Gunshot. 

Jared’s vision was taken up with Jensen standing directly in front of his, legs spread, hips half turned. Someone was screaming, a man’s voice, raw, unhuman. Two gunshots that rolled into one sound, and the screaming stopped.

“Christ,” someone said. 

Everything was quiet. The music had shut off somewhere in there, Jared couldn’t say when. Jensen’s boots crunched through debris, kicked a gun casing to rolled across the floor, up to the edge of the red-streaked plastic sheeting. 

Hands took Jared’s shoulders, firm, steady. Leather gloves against his skin, thumbs under his jaw, lifting his head. 

“ . . . let me see, c’mon let me see.” Jensen was talking as he tried to move Jared. “Mark, get her.”

Mark lifted Jared’s mom under the shoulders, pulling her out of Jared’s lap, laying her down on the floor. Her head rolled to the side, eyes half open. 

Jensen’s hand pulled at Jared shirt, peeling it off his skin. Jared looked down at his red-tinted belly. Jensen’s hands finally stopped moving, cradling Jared’s head. 

“Okay?”

“He’s okay. Get this cleaned up. Find a phone.”

Jared’s lung felt tight, an ache that wasn’t familiar. He was shivering a little, maybe from cold. He couldn’t feel it. God, this wasn’t real. How could this be real. 

“Jensen.” That was Jared’s voice, sounding completely normal. 

“Yeah.” Jensen was still crouched in front of him, hands still on the sides of Jared’s head. He looked worried, eyes searching Jared’s face.

Jared just stared back, mouth open. People always talked about shock, but it was more than numbness, it was empty, his brain unable to continue normal function. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared said. 

“What the fuck are you sorry about,” Jensen said, gently, pulling Jared to his feet. 

About the baby, definitely about the baby, about everything. 

“You’re okay, you’re fine. Let’s get you of here.” Jensen was walking Jared towards the door, leading him with a hand on Jared’s arm. 

Mark and another guy were folding the plastic over Jared’s mom. No, no..

“No, what are they doing?” Stop it, fucking stop it. Seeing his mom’s face distorted through bloody plastic was wore than seeing her lying there. Dead. She’s dead. Oh god, she’s dead.

“Hey, hey!” Jensen’s grabbed Jared’s other arm, holding him in place. “They got to get her out of here, okay? Don’t watch, come on.”

Jensen drug Jared across the room, out the door, into the fresh, cool air of a grey dawn. There were two dark Chevy suburbans, parked one beside the other Jensen opened the back door of one and made Jared sit.

“Here, drink.” Jensen shoved the uncapped bottle of water into Jared’ hand. Jared took a drink, shivered. There was a pale orange strip of light behind the trees, but shapes were still soft in the dim lighting. There was constant bird song, and the faint sound of running water. 

Jensen shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in t-shirt and gloves. Without asking, he slung the jacket around Jared’s shoulders, tugging it close. When Jared moved, the front of his shirt pulled stiff with dried blood, and Jared almost dropped the bottle of water, trying to get a look at his hands. They were coved in drying blood, his cast soaked in it, how could he have just ignored that?

Gravel crunched and Mark stepped into the glow of the suburban’s interior lights. He was holding a cell phone, using a blue shop rag to keep his fingers from touching it.

“We’re just about loaded.”

“Everything clean?”

“Bleaching right now.”

Jensen was looking at Jared’s hands. He reached over, slow, and lifted Jared’s left, turning it over. The skin was red and inflamed where the zip tie had cut into it. Jared’s nails were rimmed with blood, the creases of his palm dark. After a moment Jensen set Jared’s hand down. 

“Hey,” he said, trying to catch Jared eye. Jared was having a hard time looking at anything but the blood, soaking into his skin. 

“We’ll get you cleaned up in a minute. Right now I’m gonna need your shoes.”

It’s something Jared would have found funny at any other time. But instead of laughing he just stared at Jensen, not sure what he was asking. Jensen didn’t wait for an answer, bending to work Jared’s shoes off. 

“Stay with him,” Jensen said to Mark, and left. 

Jared stared at his bloody hands and tried to not think too much as the sun rose over the trees. 

Sometime later, the bay door rolled up and the black car drove out, idling in gravel drive. With more light Jared could see enough to know he had no idea where they were. Fields, broken down cars, trees. A building that looked a big machine shop. 

Jensen and three guys followed the car out, the last one rolling down the door. 

“Lets go,” Jensen said, striding up. 

“I want to wash my hands.”

Jensen looked at him, cautious, assessing. “Get him something,” he said to Mark.

Mark left and Jensen climbed into the back seat with Jared. Twenty seconds later one of the guys swung into the driver’s seat in front of Jared. He had long hair, in a ponytail. Another someone Jared didn’t know, and he let his gaze drift to the dash. He could feel Jensen’s look, present like a physical thing. 

Mark came back with package of alcohol swabs. He got in the front passenger seat and closed the door before passing them back. Jensen was the one who took them, and when Jared moved, he dropped the package on the floor between his boots. 

“I need you to make a phone call first.” Jensen was holding the cell phone Mark had brought out.

“Who’m I calling.”

“Me.” Jensen held out the phone and Jared took it. His hands were shaking. 

“Just wait, we need to get somewhere and then you call.”

The car started and they were moving. Jared held the phone in his lap, watched the gravel drive and trees pass. The other suburban and the black car from the garage were following behind. When they got to a paved road, the suburban turned off, the black car still following. 

It was fully light outside, the sunlight bright and clean, when they pulled over to the side of the road, running up onto the shoulder. The black car sped past. The suburban’s engine cut off, leaving a heavy silence. 

“Now you make the call.”

Jared looked down at the phone in his hands, tried to just _just_ at the phone. His thumb hovered for a moment. 

“Can’t remember you number.” 

Jensen gave the number and Jared entered it. When his phone started buzzing, Jensen answered the call, then just held it. 

All the questions that would have made sense to ask didn’t come to Jared and he watched till Jensen ended the call, bent over and retrieved the package of alcohol wipes off the floor, tore them open. He took the phone out of Jared hand, left it on the seat between them. Holding Jared’s wrist, avoiding the cuts, Jensen started cleaning the blood off. The wipes came away dark, rusty red. 

The car door swung open from the outside and a short guy with receding blond hair and a sparse beard was climbing in. 

“We good?” Jensen asked, tossing the dirty wipes on the floorboards.

“Good.” The guy settled in and the suburban’s engine started. They pulled away from the shoulder into a slow U-turn, heading back the way they’d come.

Jensen was using a clean wipe on the cut in Jared’s wrist. It stung, a deep, angry pain of badly abused flesh. It was bracing, grounding. 

“What’d you do with my mom?”

Jensen didn’t look up. “The police will find her.”

“What’d you do.”

“Put her in the car, drove it into the water.”

Something was lodged in Jared’ throat. His chest felt tight, like his lung were shrinking. 

“We had to. The police will find her. Okay, breathe. Jared!”

Jared breathed. After a while, he could hear again, feel the vibrations of the car, feel Jensen’s hands in his hair, gloves gone. Jared stayed there, leaning against Jensen, staring into mid air.


	20. Kicker

They pulled off on the side of the road and changed cars, stepping from the cool, dim vehicle into a bright morning already heavy with muggy heat.

“No shoes,” Mark said as Jared started to exit the car, and Jensen swore loudly, grabbed Jared by the back of his jacket - Jensen’s jacket - to stop him. 

Jared hadn’t even noticed. “It’s fine,” he said, staring down at the dusty weeds and gravel. He didn’t move though, let Jensen get him shoes out of a duffle bag under the seat.

Jared didn’t bother to ask why. What and why didn’t matter anymore, and Jared let Jensen direct him into the back seat of the new car. “Almost there,” Jensen said, and Jared wasn’t sure if Jensen was talking to him or not. 

“Almost there” was the airport. They drove out on the tarmac, parked in front of the stairs. For a moment Jared couldn’t make sense of it. Why were they getting on a plane? And then he realized, he had no idea where he was. Could be hundreds of miles from home. 

The second Jared stepped into the controlled lighting and cool air, he was back to the first time he’d been on the plane, flying home from Denver. If he could rewind time, he’d go back to that very moment – the tension, the exhaustion, the uncertainly, none of it seemed like anything now. If he could go back . . .

Jared narrowly avoided running into a guy dressed in a cabin attendant’s uniform, bumping into the wall instead, and Jensen’s hand was on his arm, pulling him back. 

“Call his doctor thirty minutes out,” Jensen said, and then he was moving Jared towards the bathroom. 

Jared let Jensen take back his jacket, but when he started pulling off Jared’ t-shirt, Jared stopped him. 

“I’ve got it.” His voice was broken, sharp and painful in his throat. 

Jensen didn’t say anything, just stepped back in the limited space and watched, an expectant look on his face. 

The lights were bright, everything shiny clear, reflecting the red of Jared’s skin. He dropped the shirt on the floor, keeping his head down, avoiding the mirror. Jensen moved around him and the water turned on, the only other sound besides Jared’s own too-loud breaths. 

“When’d you last eat.”

Jared stared at his feet. “Don’t know.” No, he’d had a sandwich. It made him sick. Or he’d been sick before that. He was sick now.

Jared stumbled over his jeans, pooled around his feet, made it to the sink to gag and heave, bringing nothing up but a lot of spit. 

“Motherfucker.” Jensen’s boots scuffed over the floor. His hands felt hot and dry on Jared’s skin, pulling Jared’s hair away from his face. Jared’s mind was a thick, oily sludge of nothing, no thought, just crying like a child _I don’t want this, I don’t want this_. 

Somehow he showered, or stood in the water watching it turn red around his toes as Jensen washed him down. Jensen stepped away for a moment and Jared thought he could hear him talking to someone outside the door. One of the endless spectators of the whole event. It seemed wrong. It wasn’t theirs to witness.

Jesnen turned off the water, and Jared was moving, doing _something_ , but it was Jensen who did most of the work of drying off and re-dressing Jared in sweat pants and hoodie. 

Someone knocked on the door. “We’re ready take off, boss,” a man’s voice, right outside.

“Fine,” Jensen called back.

The rear cabin was empty when they left the bathroom. Jared went to a seat on his own, belted himself in. He could feel Jensen watching, and kept his eyes in negative space rather than look at Jensen. The sharp whine of the jet’s engines filled the silence, and the texture of the carpet against Jared’s bare feet suddenly couldn’t be ignored. Even with the hoodie, he was still shivering. 

“I don’t feel well.”

“I know,” Jensen sounded pissed. “Hang on a few more minutes.”

Probably low blood sugar. Jared got that if he didn’t eat often enough. Or maybe it was a stroke. Things felt fuzzy, numb.

There was a thump and Jared flinched. Landing gear. And then the realization that they were flying out, leaving behind his mom, leaving her somewhere in the water, in the middle of nowhere alone all messed up, come apart leavingher _alone_ . . .

Jared was crying before he even knew it, couldn’t stop. Deep, dry sobs, making no noise, feeling like his guts were going to come up with each one. 

“Okay, calm down.” Jensen was out of his seat, leaning close, gripping Jared’s forearms. “Don’t you fucking pass out on me.

“Jared, the baby needs you to calm down.” 

For a ugly, painful moment Jared thought it would being doing the baby a favor to die now. Life was shit, Jared was shit, nothing good was coming for either of them. He’d stepped into a world of death and lies. If he didn’t end up like his mom, he’d end up being one of her killers.

You can’t cry without air – you can’t cry at all, for very long. Jared’s head and stomach ached, his nose was running, he felt like shit, not even aware enough to be embarrassed. Jensen hauled him up and walked him over to the couch, made him lay down. Jared wiped his nose on his sweatshirt sleeve, making a huge fucking mess.

Jensen reappeared with a glass of something green with tiny black seeds. His fingers left marks in the condensation. “Here, sit up a little.”

Jared sat up, wiped his nose again, took the glass from Jensen with a shaky hand. The smoothie tasted kind of like kiwi and went down without effort. 

Jensen sat down beside Jared, sighed out a breath. In Jared’s peripheral he was blurry, grey t-shirt and golden skin. He wiped a hand over his mouth, turned his head to look at Jared, then away again. Neither of them spoke. Jensen didn’t try to offer comfort and Jared was thankful for it. 

— 

From the airport they headed straight to the hospital where Jared’s doctor was waiting. Jared should have been worried about the baby, but he couldn’t think that far ahead, his mind still stagged on the image of his mom’s bloody face. Now she was alone somewhere. Every time he thought about it, Jared’s inside turned sick and shivery.

“Did you call the police? Do the police know?” The nurse clipped an oximeter into Jared’s finger, wrapped a BP cuff around his arm.

“The police know.” Jensen was watching him, looking angry, or worried. They seemed interchangeable. 

“One forty over sixty,” the nurse said, and Dr. Grison nodded, peeling back Jared’s shirt to expose his belly, readying for an ultrasound.

Was this the first time she and Jensen had met? Jared had a head full of dead bodies, but in the familiar exam room he’d stepped into a different life. Over Dr. Grison’s shoulder, Jared met Jensen’s eyes. In here, he wasn’t the same guy as the one holding a gun, shooting people. And Jared couldn’t be the same guy who’d seen it. This was what Jensen’s life was really like. 

— 

Jared didn’t want to stay, but Jensen sided with Dr. Grison and Jared was wheeled off to his private suite. 

“Sleep,” Jensen said. He was settled in a chair beside Jared’s bed, like he planned to stay there. Jared didn’t want to sleep, but his brain was headed for shutdown. It was a short battle, and sleep won. 

When Jared woke three hours later, the afternoon light was orange behind the window shades and Jensen was gone.

Almost as soon as Jared stirred, Mark was in the doorway. In the first few moments of waking Jared mistook him for Jensen; then he realized his mistake and the warm touch of calm was replaced by cold, twisting anxiety. 

“Jensen,” Jared croaked, throat dry, his mouth desert sand. 

Rick glanced over at Jared, then leaned to one side to pull his phone from his pocket. He didn’t say anything as he tapped at the screen, sending a message. There was a long moment as Rick watched his phone and Jared watched Rick. Then, “He’s on his way.”

The police had come by, Jensen had talked to them. They’d pressed to see Jared, and Dr. Grison refused them, unequivocally, which saved Jensen the trouble, according to Rick. 

Jared wanted to ask _where. Why’d he leave._ but that took more energy than he had. There were no drugs in his system – whatever the kidnappers used was gone, and Dr. Grison hadn’t given him any, but Jared felt heavy, lethargic. He started at the oximeter on his finger for a long time, annoyed by its presence, too tired to remove it. 

Where the fuck was Jensen? A whole pile of questions built up behind that, things Jared need to know and couldn’t untangle from all the dead bodies and Jensen, everywhere he turned. 

His cast felt heavy and damp. He’d gotten it wet again. Jared lifted his arm, then dropped it back to the bed. His cast was stained in rusty brown. He rolled over, half sitting, and started to peel the tape off the IV in his hand. 

Rick didn’t say anything, just walked over and pressed the call button.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Jared said, right as the nurse walked through the door. She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. 

“Hi, Jared. How are you feeling?” She raised the bed so Jared could sit up without effort, and immediately started wrapping a blood pressure cuff on his arm. “Any nausea, dizziness?”

“No. Fine. Are the police coming back? To talk to me.”

The nurse - Karen, according to her name tag - peeled off the BP cuff and pulled out a thermometer. “You don’t have to talk to anyone. Dr. Grison wants you to rest, alright? Hold still for just a sec.” She held Jared’s head lightly as she inserted the thermometer in his ear. It beeped. 

“99.3, a little high. We’ll keep an eye on that. I’m going to get you something to eat, and then Dr. Grison will be in to see you, okay?”

After nurse Karen left, Jared looked at Rick. “Gimme your phone.”

Rick looked apologetic. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The boss is gonna want to talk to you.”

“Who the fuck do you think I’m calling?”

“Not the police?”

“Give me your fucking phone and maybe I wont screw you over with Jensen.” Jared felt like a ten year old, angry and spiteful and backed by the unassailable power of an adult. And goddammit, in one wild, furious second, he hated Rick. 

There was a long moment of silence, and a tiny part of Jared knew he’d regret it later, but the rest of him was already planning Rick’s demise.

Movement in the door caught his eye, and Jared turned just as Jensen stepped into the bedroom. He looked Jared over, then glanced at Rick. Just a tilt of his head and Rick was leaving, closing the door behind himself.

“Where’ve you been.” Jared said. He tried to make it an accusation, but it came out half a plea. It made Jared’s lungs feel painfully weak, his chest hollow. _You fucker, why’d you leave me._

Jensen moved across the room – he’d had time to change his clothes, back to pants and dress shirt, sleeves rolled back – stepping right up to Jared’s bed, leaning down, arms braced against the raised head, and pressed his mouth to Jared. 

It was a hard kiss, Jensen’s teeth on Jared’s bottom lip, then suddenly soft, like Jensen remembered Jared was in a hospital bed. Jared reached with his left hand, awkward on the IV tether, gripping Jensen’s collar, pulled him in. 

Jensen sighed out a breath, warm against Jared’s mouth. His tongue stroked inside Jared’s lip, ran slowly over his teeth. The muscles in Jensen’s shoulder flexed under Jared’s hand, skin hot through the cotton shirt. Real, present. Distracting. 

There was a knock on the door, and Jensen pulled off Jared’s bottom lip with a wet sucking sound.

He turned his head. “Yeah.”

The door was opened by Mark, towering over an orderly with a serving cart.

“La cena se sirve.” Jensen pushed up from his lean, giving Jared room. “You hungry?”

Jared shrugged. He was hungry, his stomach empty, but he wasn’t sure had an appetite anymore. 

When Mark had pulled the door closed after the orderly, Jared looked at Jensen. “Did they find my mom?”

Jensen was messing with the food. “Not yet.”

 _Not yet._ “I need to talk to the police, so what do you want me to say.”

Jensen swung the tray table over to Jared’s bed, set a plate of food on it. Spanish chicken and saffron rice. Jared loved Spanish chicken. Usually.

“You were kidnaped, drugged, you woke up in a car. You saw Hilary killed, you escaped with one of the kidnappers phones – ”

“What? I did . . . wh –?” Jared was stuck somewhere between the drugs and Jensen saying “Hilary”, like Jared's mom was someone he knew. Jensen had it all planned, had _been_ planning it, and for some reason that pissed Jared off. 

“Why don’t you just write my confession for me.”

“You’re not confessing. You don’t even have to talk to the police.”

“Yes I do.” Jared moved his arm so the stained cast wasn’t visible in his peripheral vision. “I need to find out why my mom was killed.”

Jensen was watching him, chin up, eyes hooded. “You know why.”

“My mom should have had protection, if she was in danger. Witness protection.”

Jensen looked at Jared’s plate of food, then back at Jared. He sighed, toed a chair closer to the bed and dropped to sitting. He braced elbows on knees and leaned forward. “That’s a deep shit hole, you’re not going to find answers digging there. And I don’t think your mom was being totally honest with you.”

“I know that. But – ” _But there were FBI agents watching me instead of U.S. Marshals. I might be the reason she wasn’t protected._

“I’m not done with this yet,” Jensen said, softly. “Kings will pay for what they did.”

Jared had nothing to say to that, just stared at the chicken in its bed of golden rice, feeling Jensen close by, the heat and scent of him. Jared drew a long shuddering breath, reached for his fork. He dropped it, fingers awkward, the cast uncomfortable. 

“Okay?” Jensen asked. His hand brushed the inside of Jared’s left wrist then moved to the blanket, pulling up the hem, a roundabout to his palm resting on Jared’s stomach. 

“Yeah. I need a . . .” Jared’s voice turned wispy and he had to swallow. “New cast. Again.”

The baby had been quiet, and Dr. Grison said it was because he was recovering from the stress. When Jensen touched him, Jared felt the first movement in hours, the baby pushing back against Jensen’s hand. Jensen must have felt it too, because he was starting at Jared’s stomach with an expression of bemusement. 

_Kid’s fine, too_ Jared would have said, but Jensen was there, he already knew. And Jared felt guilty pretending responsible concern now, so he stayed quiet and ate his chicken. Let Jensen high five his kid via Jared’s stomach. If karma was a thing, the baby was going to like Jensen better than Jared anyway.

— 

Jared spent the night in the hospital. He woke once, confused and unsettled in the unfamiliar space. The first time Jensen was there, across the room on the couch, and when Jared moved, sighed out a breath, he looked over, question in his eyes. Jared looked back and neither of them spoke, and sometime between thinking and speaking, Jared fell back asleep. 

The next time Jared woke it was almost eight in the morning and Jensen was gone – maybe just outside making calls, maybe out of the city. Either one seemed likely. 

He might as well get up. See if he could go home, or talk to the police. Jensen was keeping the cops away from him, putting them off with the help of Dr. Grison. Jared wasn’t sure if Jensen was waiting for them to find Jared’s mom (find her body, _corpse_ ) or if Jensen was just stalling in general. He seemed pretty fucking gleeful about it, messing with the cops and their investigation. 

But Jared would have to talk to them eventually. Lie to them. And some part of Jared was sick with unease about that. Not cooperating with the police felt like putting all of this, the whole situation and it’s outcome, in Jensen’s hands. Jared didn’t know what Jensen was going to do with that – God, Jensen could do _anything_ and it wouldn’t surprise Jared. 

Mark must have been lurking outside the door in the adjoined sitting room because as soon as Jared’s feet landed on the floor, there was a knock at the door before it opened.

“The fuck do you want,” Jared croaked, voice rough, mouth feeling gross and sticky. 

Mark looked him over. “We’re leaving as a soon as your doctor signs you out.”

“Where’s Jensen.”

“Taking care of business.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Mark didn’t answer. He left the bedroom door open when he left. 

Jared cast had come off after dinner, and this time Jared got a brace, thank fuck. He wasn’t supposed to take it off, but he did anyway, because fuck everything. Mark put him in a bad mood. Jensen being gone put him in a worse mood. 

In the tiny bathroom, Jared stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The fall of water felt strange, the stall too small and white - had he really gotten that used to Jensen’s place? Out of nowhere, Jared was annoyed with himself for questioning it. The baby needed a home; fuck yes Jensen’s place was his, too. 

Jared blinked water out of his eyes, staring at the droplets bouncing off the tile, not sure where to put that.

By the time Jared left the bathroom, Dr. Grison was waiting, flipping through Jared’s chart. She gave his right hand a pointed look. “Am I going to have to put you back in a cast?”

“It’s . . .” Jared gestured vaguely towards the bathroom, then turned around and went back for the brace.

By the time Dr. Grison sent him home with an order for bed rest and an appointment scheduled for next week, it was ten o’clock. Jared was still eating his third ham and cheese bagel when Mark and a guy Jared didn’t know started herding him down the hall. In the elevator Jared stood between them, close enough to feel body heat, to smell deodorant and the cinnamon gum new guy was chewing. 

Jared concentrated on eating and ignoring. Dr. Grison had given him a new diet plan which basically amounted to, “eat more”. A lot more. And Jared _was_ hungry, if he’d listen to his stomach. 

The second he thought that, Jared’s mind started sliding into _if I wasn’t being kidnaped, drugged, watching –_

Heat washed over Jared’s skin and he forgot how to swallow the food in his mouth. No no no. Something else, something else. Make it something else. 

The elevator doors opened and the first thing Jared saw was Jensen. Ham and cheese when down in a lump, aching under Jared’s breastbone - “Jens’n.”

Jensen looked Jared up and down, assessing, as he stepped in to take Jared by the arm. “Let’s go.”

Jared tried to read something off Jensen’s profile. The current of unease shifted, grew. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

Right outside the exit, Jensen’s car was idling. A full size SUV was waiting behind it, waiting to follow them out. Jared’s stomach had gone tight and queasy, and the smell of exhaust was nauseating. The minute they were out the door, they were moving fast, Jensen’s hand hard on Jared’s arm. He barely had time to pitch the rest of his breakfast somewhere off to the left before Jensen was moving him into the car while Mark held the door. 

Jared wiped grease from his fingers onto his jeans. Jensen’s shoulder knocked against his, a wash of warm air, car exhaust and the smell of Jensen’s cologne. The car door slammed, and they were moving. 

Nothing wrong? Yeah, sure there fucking wasn’t. Jared kept still and tried to settle the dread churning his guts. He couldn’t even name the source of anxiety. It was a ceiling, dropping. If he thought about all the possible reasons for Jensen’s secret service imitation, he was going to puke all over the floorboards. 

Too busy trying to keep it together, it took a while for Jared to notice they weren’t headed to Jensen’s penthouse. He looked over at Jensen, question on his tongue, and Jensen said, 

“Things might get pretty rough soon. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

King? It took Jared a long moment to get what Jensen was saying, and then when he did – “You . . .” _killed some people. A lot of people._ Jared’s thought processes snagged there – but, god, did that mean there were going to be retaliations? Was this going to be a gang war or something?

Jared choked out a strained laugh. “You’re going to have to explain this to me. What. The fuck. Is going on.” Too general, but fucking fuck, was everyone insane? No one called the police, told them there were kidnappers to be arrested, right the fuck there. They killed his mom, what did they want, to kill Jared, too? It was never going to end. God. It was never going to end.

And that wasn’t how Jared had felt seeing Jensen under the bright shop lights, breaking up the stream of screaming red in Jared’s mind, but that had been his own moment of insanity. Things had to right themselves eventually.

Sunlight rolled over Jensen, limning his jaw and cheekbone. He was wearing sunglasses Jared didn’t remember him putting on. “Someone took a hit out on Mike’s kid.”

Blonde hair and florescent swimsuits, younger than Jared’s little sisters, oh god no. “Who was – ”

“Kelly. You met him. A couple of Blades jumped him last night.”

“Jesus,” Jared breathed. The name Blades didn’t mean anything to Jared, but general idea was there. “He’s dead?”

Jensen looked at Jared. “A little fucked up. He’ll heal.”

Jared licked over his lower lip. There was a split there, stinging and pulling. “That was retaliation from the guys who kidnaped me?” Jared couldn’t word it in a way that didn’t feel like recalling a nightmare.

“Those were Erik Hames’ guys, but he’s working for King.” 

The name meant nothing to Jared. Someone working for the guy Jared’s dad had pissed off.

The car rolled up to a red light and Jensen glanced at the rearview mirror, then out the passenger window. His thumb tapped where it rest on his thigh. “This kind of shit has to come straight from King. No way anyone’s putting a hit on Mike’s family without King’s okay.” 

Jared hadn’t really thought about it, but now he realized he’d assumed Jensen had killed those guys, and that was it. Everything wrong and torn up, but it would be over. 

“So King’s the guy who wants my dad dead.” That was the specter that had been hanging over Jared’s head forever, it seemed. And . . . fuck. Jensen had known. He’s known the whole fucking time, ever since Jared had met him, long before Jared’s dad went into WITSEC. Jesus Christ, Jensen had seen the whole thing. 

“You knew they were going after my mom that day, didn’t you.” Jared felt a burning ache in his chest. It was stupid to be angry about it now, realizing Jensen must have seen this coming from miles away, and said nothing. That’s just what Jensen did, fucking bastard. 

“I didn’t. But it was going to happen sooner than later. She might as well have called King up and– ”

“Shut up,” Jared hissed. “Shut up.” Something raging and incoherent tried to work its way out of his throat. He turned away from Jensen, breathing too hard. The car started forward again. 

There was a moment of silence, then Jensen said, “Someone puts you in danger, I’m gonna treat them like a threat. Doesn’t fucking matter who they are.”

“This was her fault? You’re gonna blame my mom for this? You motherfucking fucking . . .” Jared’s mind couldn’t come up with the filth his mouth wanted to scream. Next best: “This is your fault. You knew this was going to happen the whole fucking time and you used it. You didn’t say _anything_. You looked me in the eye for a year and didn’t say _shit._ ” 

Someone needed to be responsible for this, there needed to be a reason, at least a trail of fuck ups with a culprit at the end. Jensen had been there, every set of the way. He knew, he knew everything.

“You’re glad she’s dead, aren’t you. You hate anyone who wants to be part of my life. Are you fucking jealous? She was my mom!” Jared was yelling now. God, he’d lost it. He was going to come apart, right here, disintegrate into the chaos around him. The whole fucking world was chaos, underneath it all. A river of insanity that caught people up in it while everyone else turned their heads. 

Jared ran out of words, washed out and unraveled. It didn’t feel any better. He leaned as far forward as his belly would let him and tried to breathe, not cry, smothering the sound in his hands.

Jensen didn’t say anything else, and they drove in silence, the sunlight outside changing angle and direction. When Jared sat up to slump against the car door, he could see the SUV still behind them in the rearview, the road open, the city gone. Mark was in the passenger seat, O’Connell driving. Jared couldn’t even care enough to feel stupid knowing they’d witnessed another of his break downs.

A sweat Jared hadn’t noticed breaking was cooling uncomfortably on his skin. He closed his eyes, sunlight flickering through in patterns, tried to focus on the steady noise of the car engine.

Jensen’s phone rang and his knee brushed Jared’s leg as he moved to answer it.

“Ackles.”

Jared couldn’t hear anything from the other end of the line, but the pause was long. 

“I’ll pass it on.”

“Alright.”

“Not happening. You want to continue this conversation? I’ll have my lawyer contact you. Thanks for calling, officer.”

 

Jared opened his eyes, squinted at the sunlight bouncing off the glass. “Did they find her?”

Jensen shifted, he knee bumping Jared’s thigh, staying there. “They found her.”

Jared swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. “What now.”

“They’ll need your statement.”

“Okay.” Jared would have to go over that again, which parts he was supposed to tell, which parts needed to be made up. They lay so close together, bleeding through, it was hard to remember. Hard to keep the lies straight. He’d have to practice that. Aiding and abetting. That’s what he was doing. He was a criminal. It hardly felt momentous, now.

“They’re probably follow it up a couple times when they don’t get anywhere with the case. You just keep telling them the same thing.”

He even had a criminal mentor. “Okay.”

The police were one thing. They were a familiar fixture, something Jared had always had in his world. Other things, not so much. “Jensen, are these people going after my sisters?”

Jared felt Jensen’s eyes on him.

“Not now,” Jensen finally said, and didn’t elaborate. 

_Can you make that definitely never._ Jared didn’t say it, but he saved it, marked it. At some point Jensen’s interests had intertwined with Jared’s. He was going to return the favor. 

— 

The house wasn’t what Jared expected. A modern Victorian, small enough to be unassuming, large enough to belong. Trees grew back from the house, thick as a forest. Everything looked green and peaceful. When they drove between the gate posts Jared caught a red light blinking. Camera or sensor or something. 

They drove straight into the garage and the lights came on as the doors closed behind them. O’Connell parked the car, but no one moved to get out. The car dropped and Jared realized they were on a lift, going down. 

“You get someone to take care of food?” Jensen asked, and Jared turned his head, then realized Jensen was talking to Mark. 

“This morning.”

The basement garage was huge. The floor gleamed under bright ceiling lights, reflecting the shape of Jensen’s Corvette, parked beside a black motorcycle. Glass doors across the room showed a lit foyer with chrome elevator doors and a lit staircase leading up. 

“Unpack, get something ready to eat.” Jensen took off his sunglasses and hooked them in his shirt collar. He looked at Jared, his face shadowed inside the car. “Come on, I need to show you something.”

Jared opened his door, climbed out of the car. His back ached and his ass felt numb. Long car rides used to be a pain for his too-tall frame, but now everything bothered him in new ways. 

Jensen rounded the back of the car, tilted his head towards the glass doors and Jared followed. The temperature of the garage was cold, warming as they stepped through the doors. Jensen leaned around Jared to punch in a code on the key pad beside the elevator, then waited for Jared to step into the car ahead of him.

 

“This is your house?” 

Jensen glanced over. “Yeah.”

“I thought . . .” Jared wasn’t sure what’s he thought. Or why the fuck it mattered. 

“I don’t spend much time here.”

The elevator opened in a wide-open hall, dim with filtered window light. Dark wood floors, high ceilings. Jensen flipped a switch as they passed, lighting the whole area up.

“You wont need this, Mark’s will be here – ”

“Yeah, I’m not staying with Mark.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Jensen didn’t look back as he flung open a door and Jared followed. 

“Neither was I. He’s a fucking asshole, I don’t want him around.” Jared didn’t feel half so strongly about it, but goddamn, he was sick of getting walked all over. 

The room was a library, maybe. Lots of built-in bookshelves, arching windows, leather couches. Pool table. Double doors opened into a second room and Jensen slammed through them with more force then necessary, and Jared was viciously pleased to see someone else lose their shit.

“When you know what you’re talking about, you can have a say. Until then, shut the fuck up.” 

The room looked like an office, still with the high window and built in shelves. Jensen stopped facing the bookshelves, back to Jared. There was a long moment of silence in which Jared imagined slamming Jensen’s face into the dark, shiny wood. Jensen sighed out a breath, grinding the heel of his hand up his jaw, raking fingers into his hair as he half turned, still not really looking at Jared. “Come’re. I need to show you this.” 

Jared wanted to tell him to fuck off. He wanted to be petty and pissy and fuck shit up in all the stupid crazy ways he could think of. He inhaled through his nose, exhaled, clenched his jaw, as much to stop it from trembling as to keep words in.

Jensen was fiddling with a skull carved out of some kind of geode, polished smooth. He turned it one way, then the other, waiting. On the shelf above it there was another skull, swirls of color, broken open to the inside, no eye sockets, just raw crystal. 

Jared looked away. “So show me.”

Jensen lifted the skull, held it out to Jared. “Turn it upside down.”

The top of the skull was split, purple crystal exposed. Jared turned it over, holding it upside down. “Okay?”

“And,” Jensen nodded to the opposite wall. 

The middle shelf had swung inwards, like a door, showing a room beyond. 

“Oh, come on!” Jared forgot he was holding the skull, almost dropped it flailing. “You have a fucking secret room? In a bookcase?”

Jensen looked at Jared. “It’s a panic room.” He pointed to the skull. “That’s the remote.” He stepped forward, taking from Jared’s hand and returned it to the shelf. “It doesn’t work when you lock the door.” 

“Why do you need a panic room?”

Jared followed Jensen across the room to the door. Inside it looked like the rest of the place. Flatscreen TV, couches, a half circle bar. 

Jensen swung the door closed behind them and Jared saw it was unusually thick, metal, like a vault door. 

“No one needs a panic room until they do.”

“That’s deep.”

Jensen ignored that. “Close, lock.” Jared could hear the lock engage. “Bullet proof.” 

“You think I’m going to need to use this place.”

Jensen stepped past Jared, crossing the room to the TV. “I don’t think that. It’s precaution.” 

The panic room was colder than the office had been, smelled of rich wood and leather. Jared moved away from the door to the built-in cabinets. A light came on when he swung the doors open, inside a glass case. The wall behind it was mounted with a dozen guns, handguns and the kind of thing Special Forces carried in movies and news. Jared wasn’t sure what it was, but “rifle” wasn’t the word for it. 

Jared glanced over his shoulder. Jensen was in front of the TV. The screen was showed eight separate frames with video. Jared recognized the office outside the panic room. When he gave the others a second glance, he saw there was one showing the basement garage, too. 

“What’d kind of guns are these?”

Jensen glanced up from the screen, eyes flicking from the open cabinet doors to Jared. “Which one.”

“The Spec Ops stuff.” Jared moved a hand down the line to indicate.

“Bullpup. FN Herstal. There’s a lock on that, but we can add you to the system later.”

Jared had never held a gun in his life, wouldn’t know what the hell to even do with one. “Thanks, I’m good.”

Jensen turned back to the TV. “The cameras switch to backup if the power is cut, same as this room. But if you’re in this room, you _stay_ in it till I come for you, or send someone for you, get it? Doesn't matter if it looks safe to leave.” 

Jared ignored Jensen’s look, crossed the room to the bar. The stainless steel mini frig under the bar was empty except for a case of bottled water, but the freezer had a package of frozen burritos and a bottle of Beldevere vodka. Jared closed the freezer, turned the bottle in his hand to study the label. 

“So what’s the point of all the cameras if I’m not checking to see it’s safe to come out?”

“There’s more to it than visual confirmation.”

_“Visual confirmation”. How about you and your confirmation fuck off._

Jared heard Jensen approach, stop close enough to feel his body taking up space, spreading heat.

“Planning on drinking that?”

Jared set the bottle on the bar. In the silence, his stomach growled loudly. He hadn’t really noticed the growing ache of empty insides, but obviously it was past time he ate.

Jensen’s shoulder pressed against Jared’s as he leaned over, pulled open a drawer. A cell phone, a charger, a bottle of Ibuprofen, a pen. 

“If you’re in here without your phone, you can call for help.”

Jared looked at Jensen, the side of his face inches away. “So, nine one one?” 

Jensen closed the drawer and straightened. “If you want the cops to put you right where anyone could find you and put a bullet in your head.”

A uncomfortable wash of heat ran over Jared’s skin, electric with alarm. Just the words made him sick, like they never would have before there was context for it. Every time, Jared had to come back to the realization that this was all for real. He was standing in a hidden panic room, because he might have to use it. This was real.

“You don’t have to worry.” Jensen’s voice was soft, the harshness of his last comment gone. Jared could see the reflection in Jensen’s eyes, every dark lash, the sharp stubble on his chin, the chapping on his lower lip. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

_You didn’t._

It was a formless thought, a feeling more than words, and it left Jared restless, unhappy. He stepped around Jensen. “Going to find something to eat.”

“Wait.” Jensen caught Jared’s arm. His hand was hot on Jared’s skin. 

“One more thing.”

— 

One more thing was a set stairs behind a door in the office, leading directly up to the master suite. Which, apparently, meant Jared was staying in the master suite. There was a duffle bag sitting on the bare king mattress, so someone had gone and gotten Jared’s stuff from Jensen’s apartment. The idea of Jensen’s guys going through his stuff pissed Jared off and he left the room, down the front stairs, wandering till he found his way to the kitchen.

Turned out Mark could cook. Like, actually cook, not just make sandwiches or open packages and mix stuff together. Jared lifted the top of his hamburger bun, not sure he should trust it, but goddamn it smelled good. Sauteed peppers, caramelized onions and some kind of white cheese sauce on top of the meat, making Jared’s mouth water with rich, juicy smell. 

“It’s edible,” Jensen said as he appeared in the kitchen, phone in hand. 

Jared replaced the hamburger bun. “You leaving?”

“Not yet.”

Jensen opened the refrigerator, took out a beer, twisted off the top. He paused, bottle at his lips, catching Jared’s gaze. “You gonna eat?”

“Yeah.” Jared took his plate over to the table. In the sitting area just off the kitchen the guy with ponytail was watching soccer. 

“Marshal,” Jensen said, and the guy was on his feet, turning towards Jensen. 

“Jared, this is Marshal Rowe. He’s less of an asshole than Mark.” Jensen took a drink of beer, hooked a chair out from the table with his foot, sat down and went back to typing on his phone. 

Marshal nodded, grinned wide at Jared. His eye teeth were crooked, symmetrically. “Significantly less of an asshole.”

“So you take care of whatever Jared needs and he doesn’t have to see Mark,” Jensen said without looking up. 

“Yeah, thanks for giving me a say in this, I really appreciate that,” Jared said, laying on the sarcasm as thick as he could. They were all fucking assholes, as far he saw. But _shot in the head_ was there to deal with, and Jared didn’t have the capabilities to deal with that on his own.

Jensen took a drink of beer, licked over his bottom lip. “Anytime.”

Marshal was still standing, half turned back to the TV, watching the game again. Jared took a huge bite of his hamburger - _fuck_ , that was glorious - and ignored Jensen. Someone scored in the game and Marshal whispered, “Fuck, yes.”

Jared pushed down a sudden, unexpected wave of homesickness like he hadn’t felt for years, chewed, swallowed, took another bite.

— 

The basement was split, one half the garage, the other part of the house. There was a TV room with a massive screen mounted on the wall the most comfortable couch Jared had ever sat on. He made plans to stay there for a year. At least till the baby came. After three hamburgers and a plate of potato wedges he felt overly full, weirdly numb and lethargic. He lay down, leather cold against his skin.

Jensen’s sunglasses were back on, ready to leave via the garage, and Jared wanted to ask, _how long am I going to be here? Who’s taking care of my mom?_ but those were all questions he didn’t really want to think about. Jensen related the news that the police had already called Jared’s grandparents to inform them of their daughters murder. The police had taken Jared ruined cast and the cell phone he’d called Jensen on. They had the car Jensen’s guys had dumped in the water. They wouldn’t say anything, but Jensen was pretty sure they’d trace the car back to someone connected to the King family. 

Douglas King. Boston Kings, the guys who Jared’s dad had got in deep with and then flipped on. Apparently the movies were all right. That got you killed. Or your family killed. Both. 

As far as Jared could tell, the Kings were friendly with the McNultys. Were, because now everyone was ready to kill each other. As Jensen said, “King fucked himself when he decided to mess with Kelly.” 

Jared watched Jensen, the unpleasant, detached feeling growing. Too much, too fast to process. Too many people moving him around like some oddly shaped luggage.

Jensen paused at the door to the garage, turned and walked back to couch. Without moving his head Jared couldn’t see his face, just the movement of his body as he reached into his jacket, took out a phone - Jared’s phone. He set it on the edge of the couch next to Jared’s legs. Fingers brushed Jared’s thigh, settled on his hip. 

“I’ll call you,” Jensen said, like it was some huge thing. Probably was, for him. He turned and left, the thick door clicking closed behind him. 

Jared stared at his dark reflection in the TV screen for fifteen minutes before he got up to find the remote and watch something.


	21. Now More Than Ever

Jared fell asleep on the basement couch, woke up, walked upstairs to the master suite, fell asleep in the bed. There were sheets and blankets in the linen closet, but Jared was too tired to do more than drag out a duvet and a pillow, wrapped up like a burrito in the too-cold room. 

He woke to his phone ringing, and for one hazy second thought it was his mom calling, and all the stress of her dislike of Jensen and Jensen’s dislike of Jared’s mom churned up in his stomach. Then Jared remembered, and it was all infinitely worse. He lay in his dim cave of blankets and tried not to feel anything till the phone stopped ringing.

When he finally moved to retrieve it, he didn’t recognize the number. He didn’t even care enough to worry.

One upside to being pregnant, it was distracting. The unavoidable need to pee got Jared out of bed, his ravenous hunger forced him downstairs. 

Marshal was in the kitchen, and Jared hesitated for a second, not feeling ready for dealing with another person this early. The guy much have just woken up, he was shirtless and wearing Deadpool pajama pants while he stood over the espresso machine, making some drink. 

Jared laughed, and Marshal looked up, squinting.

“Nice,” Jared said, voice gravelly from sleep. He nodded to the Marshal’s pants.

Marshal made a “heh” sound, smiled, went back to his coffee. It was easy, almost felt like normal life again, and Jared walked into the kitchen, his morning improved. 

At least till Mark showed up, looking like he’d been awake for hours, thinking of ways to be a pain in Jared ass.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

Bed rest was, as Dr. Grison emphasized, literal resting-in-bed. It was for the baby, Jared was willing to stick with it, but eating and taking a piss were pretty important, too.

“You gonna drag me back up there all by yourself?”

Mark looked at Jared like he was a deeply unpleasant task that needed doing. 

“I’m going back after I eat something. You can chill the fuck out.”

Mark glanced at Marshal, and Marhsal said, “Yeah, I know. Got it handled.”

“He’s got it handled, Mark,” Jared said, just to be annoying. He yanked open the refrigerator. At least someone had stocked edible food, not just shit like chips and deli meat. You shouldn’t eat that stuff when you’re pregnant. 

Mark left, Marshal spent five minutes crafting a latte and Jared went through the cupboards to find a pan to scramble eggs. While he waited for them to cook he made toast and drowned it in butter and melted chocolate. 

Marshal turned away to take his coffee to the kitchen table. He had a tattoo on his lower back, a skull with clover leaves and flowers growing around it, through the eye sockets. A scroll twinned underneath it, writing the looked like Gaelic on it. Nope, that wasn’t overt, at all. Was Rowe even an Irish name? 

Jared took another huge bite of toast, looked away, around the kitchen. Hardwood floors, dark, shiny counter tops. Pale cupboards, stone tile and stainless steel. All the windows in the kitchen were covered - all the windows in the house, actually - and Jared didn’t try to mess with them, his idyl curiosity not quite strong enough to act on. He could probably go through the whole house, rifle Jensen’s stuff, but if Jensen didn’t even live here, there probably wasn’t anything to see.

Jared went back to bed. This time he put sheets on it, threw the blanket over the top. He didn’t plan on sleeping, but it was hours later when he woke up with a dry mouth and headache. 

_This sucks,_ Jared thought staring across the expanse of dark sheets to the wall. Even though he was in probably the most comfortable bed he’d ever been in, his back sore, and he felt to heavy and tired to shift position. The more he slept, the tireder he got, all his muscles going soft and head, his head foggy. Maybe in a few days, he’d just stay asleep, slide into a coma-state. A weird, Sleeping Beauty kind of thing. And Jensen would show up to play Prince Charming, but it wouldn’t work because Jensen was not a fucking prince, by any estimation. That made Jared smile, in a humorless sense of vindication. 

God, he was losing his mind. He was slipping, he could feel it. Doing things and thinking things he never would have. Already used to parts of this life like he never thought he would. It was just a matter of time before it swallowed him whole. 

Jared breathed slow and measured, smelling the clean fabric of the bedclothes. It had to be in the high eighties outside, bright and sunny, but inside it was cold. The high ceiling in shadow, the light leaking in around the windows, the dull gleam off wood. Jared watched it through half closed eyes, trying to feel that place that used to ache when he thought about what he was doing, the moments he would feel guilt, uncertainty - it was gone. 

Jared rolled out of bed, walked to the bathroom. He left the lights off and door open, avoiding his dim reflection in the mirrors when he washed his hands. After, he went downstairs. The kitchen was empty and he made himself a sandwich, took it to wander the house, opening doors, glancing into rooms. He found the dining room, a table for ten, wood so dark it looked black, under a silver chandelier. He knocked open a bathroom door, staring at the shiny tile, chewing a mouthful of food. It didn’t quite feel real, even after living with Jensen for weeks. It was like a staged house, all perfect and impersonal. It felt like he was touring the place.

He went back to the kitchen, made another sandwich, ate sitting on the counter. He left with a bag of trail mix that apparently had yogurt chips and wild blueberries in it. Upstairs he found the TV remote and returned to the bed. Sleep, eat, repeat was going to get old soon. 

Jared ripped open the bag of trail mix and flipped through channels. He didn’t actually feel like watching anything, too restless to pay attention. The crises on the screen seemed paper thin compared to real life. 

Jared muted the TV and ran his hand under the blankets, groping around for his phone. He had to look up his grandparent’s number, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even used it. It rang for a long time, and just as Jared was feeling a sick relief, the other end picked up. 

“Yes,” Jared’s gram’s voice said. She sounded angry. 

Jared’s froze, voice caught in his throat. “This . . . it’s Jared.”

“Jared,” she said, tone dropping, melting down into something bleeding and hollow. “Honey.”

Jared couldn’t remember a single time his grandmother had ever used an endearment with him, and it was strange, made him want to stop the conversation right there. 

“Heather and Bethy?” Jared throat felt tight, his voice ready to give out. 

“They’re downstairs, watching movies with poppy. Do you want me to – ”

“Yeah. Please.”

There was movement on the other end the line, footsteps, a door opening, the sound of a movie playing too loud, and Jared recognized _The Emperor’s New Groove_.

_”He can’t come back!”_

_“Yeah, that would be kinda awkward, especially after that lovely eulogy.”_

Jared’s gram’s voice, muffled, then Heather’s breathless, “Jared?”

“Hey, Heath.” Jared closed his eyes, bit his tongue hard to hold back tears. “Sorry I haven’t been calling lately.” Lately was a euphemism. Jared never called as often as he should have, hearing his little sister’s voice, Jared ached with guilt. All the shit he should have done and said, and now it was too late for so much of it. The resentment he’d had for his mom and sisters, having everything to do with Jared’s own miserable life and nothing with their pain. They’d been fucked over, too.

“Are you coming here?”

Jared swallowed. “I don’t – yeah, probably, I’ll come . . .” _For the funeral._

There was a hitched breath from the other end of the line and Jared knew Heather was crying. “Mom’s dead,” she said, simply, like she couldn’t help it, and Jared had nothing to say, couldn’t join her in crying as much as he wanted to. 

“I don’t want her to be dead, Jared,” Heather sobbed, like Jared could do something to change things.

“I’m know,” Jared choked out, gritted his teeth. 

“Dad’s gone and now mom’s gone. Beth is a _orphan_.” Heather sounded angry through the tears. Eleven years old and more concerned for her little sister than herself, already a better person than Jared ever was. 

_I’m sorry I’m your brother, I’m sorry your whole family failed you. I’m sorry dad’s a fuck up, I’m sorry mom’s dead, I’m sorry I’m sorry. I don’t think I can make it up to you._

But he would try. 

— 

Heather calmed down after a few minutes, her voice stuffy and lethargic. She handed off the phone to Beth, and Jared talked to his youngest sister for a few minutes, let her ask questions about the baby. Tactless curiosity was a huge relief as Heather’s tears. Beth would have preferred a niece, and she didn’t think Jared was old enough to be a parent, obviously proven by his inability to think of a name. 

When the phone came back around to Jared’s gram, Jared was exhausted, his headache throbbing over his brow and into his cheekbones. The cool air of the room felt sharp in his throat, his nose clogged with snot, skin tight with dried tears. 

“I talked to your boyfriend yesterday. He said your doctor put you on bed rest.” Jared couldn’t make anything out of her tone. “Do you need one of us to fly down and stay with you?”

Jared knew they couldn’t. They had his sisters to take care of, a funeral to plan. “No, I’m fine. I’m not alone.”

“Do you know when the police are releasing mom’s body?” Jared’s voice was too loud in his own ears. 

“I can’t get an answer from anyone. I’ll call you when I know.” 

“Okay.”

There was nothing more to say, and after a few empty exchanges, they said goodbye. Jared saved the number to his contacts and dropped the phone to the mattress, rolling over and closing his eyes again. 

— 

Jared wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke, his stomach rolling, some ailment that was a cross between nausea and abdominal cramps. After a moment he realized part it was just the baby moving, persistent and consistent. The room was pitch black, dead silent, the faint movement of air over Jared’s damp skin the only sensation. He had the sudden urge to make some noise, shout, break the tension. And the moment he acknowledged it, it started building. 

If something happened, how would he know? If someone was in the house right now, took out Mark and Marshal, was coming up the stairs in the dark, so silent . . . 

Eyes wide in the dark Jared listened, breath shallow. His head was making up noises, making up things he couldn’t see in the dark, but that could see him, maybe even things he was looking straight at right now. 

Jared reached for his phone, fumbling, half afraid to turn it on, unable not to. As soon as the screen lit, Jared lunged for the nearest light, snapping it on, flooding the room with light. 

Nothing.

“Jesus. Fuck,” Jared whispered, a wash of heat over his skin leaving him shaking and sweating. The room was empty, the door closed. Shadows hung in the corners, behind the doors to closets and bathroom, but he was alone.

Inside him the baby rolled over, faint pressure on one side, and Jared pushed his hand there. Maybe he should check the rest of the house, just make sure Mark and Marshal were still around, still breathing. 

Phone still in hand Jared made his way downstairs, throwing every switch he passed, lighting up the whole place. When he turned a corner and nearly ran into Mark, Jared nearly pissed himself. 

“Shit! Why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night?” He was jittery with nerves, too loud, talking just to talk, and Mark gave him an odd look. 

“It’s nine o’clock.”

Jared looked at his phone. 8:57. Oh. Okay. He had the sudden urge to call Jensen, ask him where he was. Make sure he was alright. 

To Mark he said, “Close enough.”

Mark glanced at the phone in Jared’s hand, back up. “You need something?”

“No. Just hungry. Going to go . . .” Jared pointed towards the kitchen. He left Mark in the hall and headed for the kitchen like that had always been his intention. In the bright light of the open refrigerator door, Jared sent Jensen a text.

_kind of boring here. doing anything fun?_

Jared turned his phone around and around as he scanned the contents of the frig, not sure if he was really hungry or not. The air was too cold, and his skin felt fragile papery, like he’d been up all night drinking. When had he last had a shower? And as soon as he thought it, Jared felt itchy in all the most uncomfortable places. Food could wait. He slammed the frig door and headed back upstairs. 

Halfway through his shower, hair full of spicy smelling shampoo subs, Jared’s phone trilled and he nearly broke his neck fumbling for a towel, grabbing for the phone he’d set just outside on the shower mat.

It was a picture of a bar, dark wood, a lit wall of bottles, low light. The bartender was a blurry torso as the far end of the bar, serving other customers. 

Jared sat half in, half out of the shower, hot water pounding against the tile, steam clouding the screen of his phone, studying the picture. 

_work or pleasure_ , Jared typed back, trying not to feel jealous. After a few minutes of no reply he added, _what’s your poison?_ He left the phone in his towel, stepped back in the shower to rinse away the shampoo. His phone lit up as he turned of the water. 

Another picture, this own of a bourbon Old Fashioned, orange twist, perfect square of ice. Jensen’s hand and suit cuff were in the edge of the picture and Jared’s focused was immediately drawn to Jensen’s broad palm, the curl of his fingers, the ring on his first finger gleaming dully in the dim lighting. 

After a long moment staring at the picture like it was porn, wiping the steam away with the corner of his towel, Jared left the bathroom. He paused to type a reply before getting dressed. 

_cute. you should instagram that shit._

Jared pulled on a pair of boxers, yanked a t-shirt over his head, stretching tight down over his stomach. His phone lit up and he grabbed it off the bed. 

_I’ve got better_

Jared waited, thumb hovering over the screen. The picture came, and before Jared even had time to really look, he was flushed hot. It was a shot of Jensen’s crotch, the V of his legs, fabric stretched over his thighs, the edge of his belt and buckle, the fly of his pants tight over his hard cock, the head showing in the left leg of his trousers, the barbell piercing a faint outline through the cloth.

“Fuck,” Jared said with a choked laugh. He didn’t move consciously, but his hand was cupping his half-hard dick, cotton a light friction against damp skin. “Fucking dirty,” Jared said aloud, directed at Jensen, but probably appropriate for all company. For a second he wondered if Jensen was drunk, then remembered wet alleyways and the back of Jensen’s car . . . it was probably just Jensen. 

Before he could do anything about it, a new message from Jensen popped up, _There’s your preview. Show starts at midnight._

 

Jared didn’t last that long, in any sense of the term. The possibility of Jensen, there in person, made Jared ache with a strange emptiness, like the anticipation made the present moment that much worse. Also, Jensen’s crotch shot. 

Fucking Jensen. Jared lay spreadeagle on the bed, the only light from the open bathroom door and Jared’s phone. One hand shoved down his shorts, palming his cock, skin too dry and hot, that stupid picture of Jensen all he had. No real idea what Jensen was doing. Maybe his hard on was for some hot guy in that bar. Or girl. Maybe he was fucking them right now, while Jared got all worked up over his stupid picture. 

Goddammit. That sounded exactly like something Jensen would do. What a dick. A really hot dick . . . Jared was so fucked up. Jared groaned aloud, slammed his phone face-down on the bed, felt the sharp twinge all up his arm. He’d forgotten the brace after his shower. 

Jared took his hand off his aching cock and the waistband of his boxers caught under the head pressed it against his stomach, still strange with the new curve of his belly. Jared felt wound up, on edge, too frustrated and pissed to make it good. But whatever. Fuck Jensen. (Hopefully.) 

Jared bent one knee, foot flat on the mattress, dropped it back down. Hand back to his shorts, thumb hooking under the waistband, pulling it away from his dick, dragging them down. He was making this shit harder than it had to be. He should find some porn, something that didn’t remind him of Jensen at all, get off to that. 

Jared skated his hand down, the drag of his palm on soft skin sending a shiver of half good, half bad through his bones. His phone was still in his right hand, and he let it go, fingers twitching across the sheets. Jared sighed, stared at the shadowy ceiling, fingers pressing the underside of his cock, moving under the head. It was clumsy left-handed, with the curve of his stomach in the way. What a fucking stupid situation he’d gotten himself into. _No, didn’t mean that, sorry, kid._ God, what would happen in a few more months? Jensen would have to take care of it. Yeah; with his fucking mouth. 

It was an inspired thought, took Jared from a persistent boner to actually turned on. He barely had the patience to work up a mouthful of spit for lube, working it over the head of his cock, fisting his dick, trying to bring up that sensation of Jensen’s mouth, hot, wet suction, so tight and soft and slick. The feel of Jensen’s stubble under Jared’s fingertips, his soft hair, damp at the scalp. The roll of his throat, the way his lashes looked from above, his hands gripping . . . 

Jared’s orgasm came unexpectedly, rolling up through him, making his hips jerk, heels digging into the mattress, sliding on the sheets. “Oh god fuck fuck Jensen!” He arched his head back into the pillows, panted through it.

— 

Jared didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke cold, lying uncovered, his feet tangled in the sheets, someone’s fingers moving over his belly. He flinched, blinked – 

“Hey,” Jensen said. Fingers circled Jared’s wrist, tugged his hand free from the waistband of his boxers where Jared had apparently fallen asleep cupping his cock like a teenager. God. 

Hands shifted him to pull the sheets free, drawing them up. The mattress dipped close and a stir of air brought body heat and the smell of Jensen’s skin, cold night air and the city. Jared’s body started moving before his brain, reaching for Jensen. Naked skin, the roll of Jensen’s shoulder, and Jared gripped tight. 

“I had a dream about you,” Jared said, voice slurred with sleep. It had had something to do with Jared escaping his own birthday party, his mom and dad and sisters, to go hiking in the Cascades. 

Jensen’s hand gripped Jared’s thigh, pulled hm in closer. “Yeah?” His breath stirred Jared’s hair where it was in his face, dried a tangled mess. 

“There was this really fucked up dude, like a tour guide or something. He was always talking to himself and . . . I think he was Gollum. He was crawl – ”

Jensen kissed him, lips soft and so warm, heat soaking down into Jared. Jensen’s hand cupped Jared’s ass, his fingers working in the crease, against the cotton of boxers, his thumb pulling the thin skin over Jared’s hip bone. 

Jensen pulled back, licked slow and wet over Jared’s lower lip. “I thought I was in this dream.” 

Jensen had been there, just a guy in a ball cap, watching Jared as they climbed through the humid forest, but Jared couldn’t answer because Jensen was kissing him again, sliding his tongue into Jared’s mouth, moving slow and thorough. Jared felt over Jensen’s ribs, fingers digging into the grooves of muscle, softer flesh under thin skin. The hard press of Jensen’s dick against Jared’s belly was weird – and weirdly erotic. Jared didn’t like thinking about the baby when he was having sex, it made him embarrassed, maybe guilty, but he wasn’t going to examine that shit, just knocked it out as soon as it showed up. There was nothing sexy about being pregnant, even if any part of Jensen on Jared’s skin turned him on like crazy. Biology. Totally not his fault. 

Jensen moaned in approval when Jared got a hand on his cock. Jensen rocked his hips a little, thrusting into Jared’s grip, hooked his heel around Jared’s leg. 

“Need this so fucking bad,” Jensen whispered against Jared’s lips. The picture of Jensen walking around with blue balls all night was actually kind of funny, and Jared gave an aborted laugh.

“That’s funny?” Jensen’s fingers tightened on Jared’s ass. His other arm was under Jared’s neck, and he combed Jared’s hair away from his face, pulling pieces caught on spit-wet skin. His fingers closed, tugged enough to ache. Jensen’s stubble scraped against Jared’s, his breath humid over Jared’s neck and ear. “I could have fucked so many pretty mouths today,” Jensen whispered. “I didn’t.”

Jared’s head was tilted back, pushing his hips forward, his cock pressed against his own wrist and he felt the twitch, the warm spread of pre-come through cotton. He meant to say something sarcastic, _Good for you. You want a prize? That must have been so hard for you. Heh heh,_ but it lit up more than lust.

“I volunteer,” Jared said, pulling his hand from between their bodies, trying to work his leg free to move down the bed. 

The mattress rolled and Jensen was on top, hot skin over a solid body, grinding his naked cock against Jared’s hip, so fucking hard, the silky head sliding over Jared’s stomach, leaving a smear of come to cool in the air. Jensen mouthed over Jared jaw, licked up his chin, set his teeth on Jared’s lip, an aching throb of trapped blood. He tugged, a sharp sting blossoming, and Jared made an involuntary whining sound in his throat. Jensen was an animal, a fucking perfect animal. 

Jensen let go and Jared licked his lips, blinked up at the soft outline – he edge of Jensen’s ear, the spikes of his hair, bare shoulders limned with blue light from the bathroom. Some kind of nightlight, too dim to make out features, and Jared kind of wished he could, but couldn’t think where to find the light switch.

Jensen rolled off Jared’s legs, moving to the edge of the bed, and Jared’s hazy brain and hard, aching cock protested. “Hey, wh– ?”

“Lube.” Jensen grunted, reached for something on the floor, came back up, the muscles in his back bunching and rolling. 

“What about – ”

“Yeah, later.”

Jared was already working his boxer shorts down, lifting his hips, and Jensen pulled them the rest of the way off, tossing aside. His hand worked up under Jared’s t-shirt. “All of it.”

Jared got to his knees to strip of his shirt, already damp with sweat, skin hot and shivery in the cool of the bedroom. Before he could get down to hands and knees – maybe elbows and knees, because he really wanted to feel this – Jensen stopped him, pulled him down to lie on his back. 

Jensen’s hands touched Jared’s knees, stroked down his calves, bending Jared’s legs, moving them apart. “Like this.”

“Yeah,” Jared breathed. Would have agreed to anything, didn’t really care, just wanted to get the show on the road. 

Jensen’s hand slid under Jared’s ass, lifting, moving Jared into his lap. Jared got a hand between his legs, cupping his balls up and out of the way. He was so sensitive the touch shot a hot flare up through his groin, making him twitch and grunt. Jensen laughed, low and amused.

“C’mon,” Jared whined. Shoved at Jensen with his leg. 

“I’m warming this shit up for you. Like a fucking gentleman.” Jensen’s elbow knocked Jared’s leg wider and then warm, wet fingers settled at his perineum, sliding down to work in gentle circles over Jared’s asshole.

“Yeah, you’re a perfect – ” 

Jensen slid a finger in, and Jared shivered all over, shuddering from toes to head. “ – example of chivalry.” 

Jensen had the fingers of a goddamned musician, minus the callouses. Strong, controlled, and – oh, fucking Christ! Jared blew out a breath, thighs shaking with the strain of keeping still when Jensen’s fingers worked over his prostate, stroking in and out, so fucking slow and dirty. Jared wasn’t writhing, but he really fucking wanted to. 

“Jensen,” Jared said, and Jensen seemed to know what that meant. His fingers pulled out, hands adjusting their grip on Jared’s legs. The catch of wet skin on skin as Jensen hooked an arm under Jared’s leg, and Jared lifted his ass. Eyes wide in the dim light, too much black space, the hot, damp sheets under Jared and Jensen above him the only anchors.

Jensen pushed in slow, his breathing heavy in the silence, hissed words Jared couldn’t catch. The perfect ache, warming anticipation; Jared’s hand moved from his balls, the hot, tight skin of his cock, reaching further down, moving without thought. Jensen’s hand found his fingers in the dark, guiding them to the base of Jensen’s cock, hot, slick skin where they joined. The tips of Jared’s lube-wet fingers slid over Jensen’s tense lower belly, feeling each breath. 

Arousal built warm and heavy in Jared’s gut. He could feel the jump of Jensen’s thigh muscles against his hip, but Jensen’s fingers were light on his wrist, just resting as he explored wet skin, Jensen’s cock a warm aching weight inside. Neither of them said anything, but when Jared pulled back, Jensen moved forward, bracing his arms on the bed, leaning into Jared. His kiss was soft and slow, tongue without teeth, and Jared got a hand on his neck, fingers slipping into Jensen’s short hair. 

Jensen was rocking his hips forward, moving them together, and Jared pulled his legs up, hooked them over Jensen’s hips, pulling himself into it. Jensen’s whole body moved, muscle flexing under warm skin, making Jared tighten his legs, dig his fingers into Jensen’s back under the jut of his shoulder blade. 

When Jensen didn’t move, Jared turned away from the kiss. “Fuck me, I wanna feel it.” Feel the pressure of Jensen’s pretty, gold barbell, the ball working him from inside. Feel the full ache of Jensen’s cock moving in him.

Jensen rolled his hips, grinding into Jared, sending little jolts of heat through his body. “You can’t feel that?”

Jared groaned, panted, worked his ass for more, and Jensen reared back, setting one hand on Jared’s chest, whispered, “Te tengo a ti.” Jared didn’t have enough mind left to ask what it meant.

Jensen fucked him slow and deep, winding Jared up steadily, till Jared was writhing and moaning, telling Jensen he was awesome, so fucking _amazing_. At some point Jensen’s hand moved to Jared’s collarbone, thumb in the hollow of Jared’s throat, no pressure, just resting. 

Jared barely had time to get a hand on his dick, fisting it twice even as he started coming. He felt Jensen’s sharp exhale on his damp skin, his own come landing in hot stripes over his stomach and chest. He was already going limp, floating out on a wave of bliss when Jensen’s rhythm stuttered and Jared felt Jensen’s cock jerk inside him. When Jensen’s movement turned slow and languid, Jared dropped his legs and sprawled, ready to go straight to sleep, covered in come or not. He felt way too fucking good to care.


	22. Placebo

Extended periods of stress can shrink brain neurons. No context, but waking up it was the first thing Jared thought. He knew what people meant when they say they were losing their mind. It’s a disintegration that feels literal and physical. Pieces breaking away and you can’t control it. 

But today, he could almost think. He felt a little better, and that made him feel guilty. 

It was twenty-four hours since Jensen showed up, and he was still there. Jared was ready for him to leave, take off while Jared slept, no explanation or warning. It was weird waking up for the second day in a row and finding Jensen drinking coffee in the kitchen.

“It’s awake,” he said when Jared walked in.

The muffled sound of rock music was coming from the open door to the basement. Jared yawned a jaw-popping yawn, too sleep-dumb to think of a worthy reply. It was after ten, but he could have slept longer if he wasn’t so hungry. 

“You need to talk to the feds today.”

Jared opened the refrigerator, studied the food inside. “Okay.” He didn’t want to think too hard about it. Let Jensen handle it. 

“Two o’clock.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll have my lawyer with you. She’ll be here in about an hour. Before then we need to go over your story.”

Jared nodded. The cold air was raising goose bumps on his skin, but he didn’t move. 

“And she’s going to see about getting your mom’s body released. Fucking pigs will try and keep it as long as they can, we'll need to lean on them a little.”

A warm, metallic taste filled Jared’s mouth in a flood of saliva, tightening his throat and churning in his stomach. 

“If you want to bury—”

“Shut up,” Jared choked out. He slammed the refrigerator door, turning to leave, then made an abrupt sidetrack to the kitchen sink just in time to empty his stomach. 

Jensen didn’t say anything as Jared ran the water and hung over the basin, waiting for the nausea to pass.

— 

Angela Kimmett was 110% professionalism, the kind of person Jared would expect to see prosecuting criminals, not working for them. It was eleven on a hot, sunny morning, and Jared was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, feet bare and hair still wet from a shower. Ms. Kimmett laid her leather attache on the table and sat, bringing Jared into a cloud of subtle perfume. 

“Jared, I’m Angela Kimmett. Jensen has asked me to represent you. Is that what you want?”

Jensen followed them out to the living room, taking the couch across, watching.

“I . . . just to be there when I talk to the FBI?” Unless there was something more. Something coming that Jared was missing and Jensen wasn’t telling. Jared glanced over, but Jensen’s face was impassive. “Yeah. I guess.”

— 

Jensen rode with Jared to Federal Plaza, but he didn’t get out. From the car behind them Mark and Marshal emerged, stood waiting. 

“Call when you’re done,” Jensen said. 

Jared nodded, moved to get out, and Jensen stopped him with a grip on his upper arm. Jared turned, and Jensen kissed him, warm and deep. 

“You’re fine,” Jensen whispered against Jared’s lips. 

Jared was two seconds from asking—begging—Jensen to come with him, but Jensen let go, sat back, the interaction over. Jared shoved open the car door and stepped out. The tinted windows hid Jensen as soon as the door shut. Jared stepped away, joined Mark, Marshal and Angela Kimmett outside.

“Ready?” Angela asked. 

Jared swallowed, nodded. “Lets go.”

There were people waiting for them in the lobby, two men and a woman. Mark was right behind Jared, Marshal on his left, Angela on his right. As they closed the space between the two groups, it was like an old west stand off, everyone sizing everyone else up. Either side, Jared was outclassed. He was so fucking outclassed. 

“Jared Padalecki?”

Guilty as charged. And, literally guilty. About to be. _I’m about to commit a felony. Don’t think about it now, don’t think about it._

It was suffocating inside the elevator with just five people, the small space magnifying every breath, every rustle of clothing, every swallow. Mark and Marshall, having identified themselves as Jared and Angela’s drivers, stay downstairs. 

Before Angela arrived, Jensen went over Jared’s story with him. He had heard it before, but can’t remember where it melts into the truth. 

“That’s it?” Jared asked. It was less than he could have actually told, if he was telling the truth. 

“That’s it. Big mistake people make telling lies, they go detailed. You’re not writing a novel, you’re making a counterfeit. No one’s going to be surprised if you’re recall is bad. We use that in our favor.”

Jared didn’t really care about the lying, just about the getting caught. “What if they make me take a lie detector test.” 

“They wont,” Jensen said, easy.

How to lie to someone’s face. Jared wasn’t sure if premeditated was easier or harder. The separation between the true, so sharp and unexpected in Jared’s head, and the untruth, reality cut up and pasted back together. He had to keep reminding himself _why_ it was so important he lie. For Jensen. Lie for Jensen. To keep Jensen. 

“Don’t try and come across to them as honest. Don’t try to sell the story, just tell it. Just be you.”

“I know,” Jared said, distracted. 

Turned out, it wasn’t that hard. Maybe it was just round one. Good cop before bad cop. Jared would have liked to think it was because he was the victim. At least, because he had a doctor and lawyer to back him up.

After an hour passed and they were “taking a break” Jared was getting tired. One of the men, Agent Dearborn, brought Jared and Angela water and coffee. Jared drank the water and Angela sent a text on her phone. Jared wanted to ask if, on the off chance, it was Jensen, but even thinking his name in this room seemed to be pushing his luck. 

“I want to know about my mom,” Jared said when Agents Dearborn and Shippard were both seated. 

“You’re mother’s body is—”

“No. The witness protection, whatever. My dad is in WITSEC. My mom said she was told his family didn’t need protection. Why wasn’t she being protected?”

Dearborn sighs, rubs a finger over his upper lip, glances at Shippard. Shippard is watching Jared with a furrowed brow. She’d be the good cop.

“Jared, your mom told you your dad was in WITSEC?”

Jared blinked. “Yeah.” Oh. No. “He’s not?” 

“No, he is. But you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“What?” Jared said, sharp. “Why not?”

Dearborn glanced at Angela, sitting silent and keenly watchful, then back at Jared. “You’re mom was being watched. She was relocated, she had a Marshal watching her. She wasn’t supposed to tell you. She wasn’t supposed to tell you a lot of stuff. For her safety, and yours.”

“She was relocated . . . where?” Jared’s brain, his poor shrunk neurons, tried to catch up. His mom had been lying to him, but not as much she was supposed to?

“Indiana,” Dearborn said. 

“Jared,” Shippard said. “We’re coordinating with the police and US marshal service to try and understand what exactly happened. You’ve been a big help, and —”

“No, hold on a fucking minute!” Jared ground the heel of his hand against his temple. “My mom is dead, because of this thing with witness protection . . . because of what she told me?” The sick, heavy ache was back, spreading. 

“No, we don’t think that.”

Jared couldn’t tell is Dearborn was lying. Couldn’t tell if anyone was telling him the truth. “Can someone please just tell me what’s going on.” Jared’s voice cracked. In another second he’d be fighting tears. Or breaking shit. 

“The Marshal who was watching your mother disappeared right around the same time she left with your sisters. We have no further information on that right now.”

“You think my _mom_ had something to do with it?”

Dearborn looked startled. “No.” His mouth started to form a word, like he was going to say more, then changed, said, “No, we don’t think that.”

“Why wasn’t I supposed to know about my dad?” And then Jared’s brain ran straight into the huge, flashing question sign. _Why wasn’t I being watched by witness protection?_ As soon as he started to ask, it froze in his throat, unsure, and Shippard was saying, 

“The official story was, your dad died in the hospital. You’re mom knew the truth, but no one else outside of the agency was told. It was just another way to keep you all safe.”

Jared choked on a laugh. “Great fucking job.” He took a breath. His nose was starting to run, his vision going blurry with tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of these agents, in front of Jensen’s lawyer. 

Jared started pushing to standing, knocking his chair back. “I need . . . where’s the bathroom?”

Dearborn half-stood with him. “To the right, all the way down, on your left.”

Jared didn’t give in and cry till he had locked himself in a bathroom stall, muffling the sound against his arm. 

— 

 

Jensen was waiting in the car for Jared, the window cracked, smoking. Jared dropped into the seat just as Jensen put the cigarette out. Jared took a breath, coughed involuntarily.

“Turn up the air,” Jensen said to O’Connell. 

When Jared returned from his embarrassing bathroom cry, eyes raw, Angela and the agents had been sitting in silence, Dearborn and Shippard looking tired and bored. As soon as Jared stepped into the room, they both straightened, returning to attitudes of attention. 

Jared didn’t sit. “Where’s my dad?”

Shippard took a deep breath. “You’re father is being kept in protective custody. He’s okay, he’s safe. That’s all we can tell you right now.”

Jared swallowed. “Okay. Can I go? Are we done?”

Dearborn looked at Shippard, and Shippard said, “You can go.”

Jared left with a card from each agent and a glib promise to keep him updated on any new developments in the case. 

— 

The police called that evening to tell Jared his mother’s body was being released. But when he tried to make arrangements, he was told they’d already been made. Jared’s grandparents were having the body shipped back to Seattle. So Jared called his grandmother. 

In the end, it was agreed Jensen and Jared would fly Jared’s mom home. The funeral was scheduled two days out. 

Nothing felt quite real. The sun was too bright, the air to heavy. The texture of clothing and stair railings and coffin wood came in excruciating detail. When Jared walked into his grandparent’s house, his little sisters just stared at him like he had become a stranger. Because apparently he had. Heather unfroze and stepped in for a tentative hug, but Bethany would only stare.

When Jared said he wasn’t staying after the funeral, Jared’s grandmother replied, “Well, I guess I shouldn’t expect any else.” She was washing dishes, and as Jared left the room, he heard the sound of glass shattering. 

Once Bethany overcame her shyness, she wanted to be with Jared constantly. Would he watch TV with her, would he play Kelly Club Dolls with her, would he read her a story? Jared went through the motions, and that seemed to appease her.   
Jensen stayed away, at Jared’s request, but someone, Mark or O’Connell, was parked down the street, watching.

He hated the funeral. Everything from the choice of flowers to the smell of wooden pews to the repeated loud sobs of a woman three rows back. The noise was sharp and irregular, and soon Jared was tensing, waiting for the next one, and god-fucking-damn he wanted to stand up and scream, _shut up you fucking bitch!_

Jensen’s breath stirred Jared’s hair as he murmured, “you need to leave?” and Jared realized he was shaking, muscles locked tight. 

They buried Jared’s mother in the empty side of a massive cemetery. Neat green lawn, little American flags and plastic flowers on the few scattered headstones. It was a plot Jared’s grandparents had planned to use for their own graves. 

The second Jared stepped through the doorway into his grandparents house for the reception, he wanted to be anywhere but there. The devil on his shoulder had physical form in Jensen saying, “We can leave right now.” 

“I’ve got to say goodbye to my sisters,” Jared said, already scanning the milling crowd of guests. He started working his way through, Jensen at his shoulder. Twice people stopped him. A family friend, a second cousin he didn’t know he had. Condolences were given with obvious glances at Jensen, pauses for an introduction, an explanation that Jared wouldn’t give. 

Jared found his sisters on the living room window seat with a couple of kids. They were holding mini paper plates with cut vegetables and brownie squares, not eating, looking solemn and abandoned, and Jared’s chest clenched with a sharp ache. In an instant he wanted to take them with him, back to New York. Give them—what, he didn’t even know, but whatever they wanted would be a start. 

_They want their mom._

“Hey,” Jared said softly, crouching down to come level, catching himself against the edge of the window seat. “I have to get going. But you have my number, and I want you to call me if—”

“Jared, noooo,” Beth whined. “I don’t want you to go.” 

“Bethy, I have to go, but you can . . .” Jared swallowed, doubt swelling up inside. “You can call me. We’ll Skype. Maybe I can come visit soon.” And that was a barefaced lie.

“Why can’t you just stay?”

There was no winning. Jared repeated himself, watched as Beth turned teary, grew louder. Heather sat stiff and expressionless, watching Beth and then Jared. The middle man she had become. One of the guests arrived to see what the problem was, and Jared took the cowards way out. While someone else comforted his sisters, he slipped out the side door, avoiding his grandparents entirely. 

— 

There were things Jared had realized subconsciously, odd things that connected to his mom, his dad and the WITSEC arrangement. Questions he wanted to ask Agents Shippard and Dearborn. He started writing them down when they came to mind. Half formed thoughts, badly worded and lacking the information that would turn them into actual inquiries.

Jared was leaving his doctor’s office when he got a call from Shippard. It wasn’t to answer any of Jared’s questions. 

Jared’s dad wanted to see him. Insisted, but that sounded like a euphemism.

“Yes,” Jared said before he could process anything. Like accepting something you don’t know what to do with, but know it will likely come in handy at some point.

It came to him four hours later as he was brushing his teeth, half asleep. The cool edge of the bathroom sink pressed against his stomach, and Jared’s thoughts drifted, snagged: _I should kill him._

The real possibility made it stay. Lying awake, Jared held the idea in place, let the sick disbelief wear away, let the anger build, let the calm voice offer up solid reasons. His sisters would be safe. His grandparents. His uncle. Jared’s little contribution to the lives he’d never be a part of again. 

Jensen laughed when Jared told him. Jared watched, waited, and Jensen’s gaze turned thoughtful. 

After a moment, he said, “Best chance is when they’re moving him.”

— 

Months later Jared learned the act of killing is easy. It’s what comes before and after that’s not. 

Jared was picked up by federal agents. They searched him before he got in the car, the agent who did it moving awkwardly around Jared’s pregnant stomach. Jared wanted to say, “It’s not a fucking balloon, it wont pop,” but he also wanted the feds hands off him entirely. 

Jensen hadn’t held out much hope they would take Jared’s dad out of whatever prison he was in. But they would move him from wherever he was being kept to wherever he would meet with Jared. And then back again.

“The least we’ll get is a current location. We can work with that,” Jensen said.

Once the agent was done patting Jared down, he asked for Jared’s phone. Jensen had said that might happen. 

“But if they do take it, chances are they’ll keep it with them.”

“What are they gonna do, try to hack it? Because I’ve got a bunch of dick pics on there, and they’re not all mine.”

Jensen looked at Jared for a moment, a slow grin coming over his face. “You’re such a bitch.” It was good to see someone smiling again, to see Jensen smiling. When he reached for Jared, pulling him in for kiss, Jared met him halfway.

“I put a tracking thingy on your phone,” Jensen whispered against Jared’s lips. 

Jared pulled back. “You what now?”

“Also bugged it. Not personally, but I had someone do it.”

Jared sat back, shoved his plate of cinnamon pancakes out of the way. “Thanks, asshole. The moment is fucking ruined.”

And honestly, Jared was still pissed about the whole thing. Once this was all over, he was going to take his phone and smash it to pulp in front of Jensen. Then he would go out and buy a new one, and not give Jensen the number. 

Jared handed his phone to the agent. “How long till I get it back? I have all my pregnancy aps on there, like when I need to eat and drink and take my meds. And my doctor’s number. And my backup doctor’s number.”

The agent looked confused and slightly alarmed. “Okay, well . . . I think you should talk to Agent Dearborn about that.”

Jared grinned, wide and fake. “Thanks.” But seriously, were there aps for pregnant people’s diet? He’d have to look that up.

The drive was long, the car smelt funny, and the conversation sucked. Dearborn and the agent driving talked about sports, then the best way to clean up pet hair, then their favorite cop bar.  
Jared couldn’t wait to get home and watch ten hours of mindless TV. Somewhere in there, he fell asleep. 

— 

“How are you . . . how are they going to kill him?” Jared’s gag reflex closed over the words. He forced them out because god dammit if he couldn’t say it he had no business doing it.

But he wasn’t doing it. Not really.

Jensen was watching him. “Do you have a specific request?”

“I—no. I don’t care. I just wanted to know.”

Jensen considered Jared for a moment. He’d been doing that a lot, like he was trying to figure something out. 

“There’s no taking this back.”

Jared gave a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “ I know that.” No take-backs for any of them.

Jensen’s mouth curved into a brief smile. “Not yet, baby.”

— 

Jared woke up with his head against the window, neck stiff. Up front, the agents were discussing the cost of home ownership in low, serious tones. Jared pushed himself upright, wiped his mouth, blinked bleary eyes.

Jared never visited his dad in prison, and he didn’t think his sisters had either. Not like Jared’s dad had much time for them before he went to prison. Those last few years Jared was sure his dad hated his life, his family. The arguments behind closed doors, the tense, infrequent family meals; his absence was his biggest contribution to their life. Jared had been waiting for his mom to announce a divorce, not his dad’s arrest, court appearances, prison. 

And now, here he was. 

They took him in through the basement parking garage. Reality came in the bright, bare halls blocked off at their ends with security gates, the elevator that smelled faintly of stale sweat, the beige carpet in the office they settled Jared in.

“Could I get something to eat?” Jared asked, a needful pursuit to delay the inevitable. 

Dearborn’s mouth flattened, his eyebrows looking troubled as he checked his watch. “I’ll see what we can do. But first I need to talk to you about your dad.”

Jared waited in silence. 

“He’s saying he wont testify. He wants out of the deal. You know what that means?”

_He’ll be easier to kill. Someone will kill him. Both parents by the same guys, that’s very nice and tidy._

Jared stared back at Agent Dearborn.

“It means,” Dearborn continued, “he’ll be moved out of secure housing. We know he’s being targeted, but if he’s refusing to testify we can’t protect him. You see what I’m saying?”

Jared saw. “Are you asking me to convince him to testify?”

“I’m asking you to show him he has a lot to live for.” Dearborn’s gaze dropped to Jared’s pregnant belly. “He wont get a chance to change his mind again.”

“Did my dad even ask to see me or did you bring me here to try and save your case?”

Dearborn’s forehead creased, earnest to an extreme. “He asked to see you. He was very adamant.”

“Alright.” There was a hot metal taste in Jared’s throat. He wanted this all over with, now. “Let’s get on with it.”

Dearborn didn’t move, waiting. 

“I think it’s dumb to try and back out of the deal now, so that’s what I’ll tell him.”

Dearborn nodded once, pushing out of the too-soft chair. “Sit tight.”

Jared waited. One of the agents brought him bottled water and Chipotle takeout. Jared was halfway through a burrito bowl when they brought his dad in.

The clothes were normal, making the cuffs look out of place. Hands held awkwardly together in front, hair more gray than blond now, oh God he looked old. Helpless, tired, so fucking miserable. 

Jared fought not to gag on his mouthful of food, swallowed it down. This was all a bad, bad idea. 

The handcuffs were unlocked. Jared’s dad said to Dearborn, “You promised we could be alone,” and his voice was just like Jared remembered. 

Dearborn eyeballed them both, then nodded. “I’m right outside.

The door clicked shut and silence crashed down. 

_Get though it. Doesn’t matter what he says. This isn’t the point, so it doesn’t matter, just get through it._

Jared’s dad was staring. Jared knew he was changed, and not just because he was five months pregnant. 

“I guess I’ve been gone a long time,” his dad said after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Jared said, just to break his side of the silence. His dad moved to the other chair and sat. 

“So you’re . . .” he gestured. 

“Pregnant?” Jared said, too sharp and loud. He was smiling, a strange grin he couldn’t suppress. This wasn’t funny, it was _bizarre_. If he thought for one second about what he had planned, about what him and Jensen were going to do, had already set in motion . . .

 

“Your mom never told me.”

Jared stared at the man across from him, stomach tight with nerves, skin prickling cold with the fear he would see something there that called up some feeling. Hair receding at the sides, shoulders hunched. Gray eyes tired, tired, so tired. _He doesn’t care about dying. He just doesn’t care. About anything. Not me, not Beth or Heather. Not mom._ Again, all he thought about was himself. 

“Jared, I’m sorry. About your mother. I’m sorry.”

By the time Agent Dearborn stepped back in the room, Jared was sick with holding down a thick mess of emotions. He only wanted to get away and the disjointed goodbye between him and his dad would play on repeat for weeks to come. The feel of someone once so familiar and now a stranger, embracing him. Half of the distance was Jared himself, the reminder a spike pinning him out in the open, exposed.

Jared left the room first, escorted by the agent who had driven up with him. The smell of Jared’s half-eaten burrito bowl, an hour ago so appetizing, was nauseating. Away from the office, Jared asked for a bathroom and the agent took him in another direction from the elevator, waited outside while Jared rinsed out his mouth and washed his hands twice. In the mirror he looked pale under a guilty flush. 

More than anything, Jared wanted to talk with Jensen. 

— 

Jared received news of his father’s death via phone call, before he saw it as fifth page news. 

 

— 

Jensen’s hands cradled Jared’s head, thumbs stroking over the points of his cheekbones. Hot skin pressed to skin, damp where they touched.

“Regret is a dead man,” Jensen’s words tickled against Jared’s skin. “We don’t live like that.”

Jared's fingers stroked smooth skin over layered muscle, gripping at Jensen's hips, his spread thighs. Jared's breath slowed, steadied. Rolled out of his body, room to be filled. And it was.


End file.
